The Heart in the Vise
by MiseryMaker
Summary: Post Season 5 Fic—Under the unresolved shadow of their time spent apart, Booth and Brennan find themselves chasing a serial killer who puts the metaphorical hearts of the FBI-Jeffersonian team in a vise.
1. Chapter 1

_**[A/N: I really appreciated your very warm welcome to this site. Thanks for stopping here and for your patience with this long note. **_

_**This story takes place slightly more than one year after the Bones S5 finale. This was my very first idea for a Bones fanfic. It hit me mid-Season 5 and had been originally intended to be set back after the S4 finale. However, after I wrote the first two chapters, I got an enormous case of writer's block and put this story aside. After finishing "Translation," I was left bereft of ideas, so I decided to revisit this story to see if any of it still resonated. Fortunately, it was very easy to shift this story ahead one season to focus on Bones and Booth working together after what happened in the S5 finale instead of after recovering from what happened at the end of S4. The core of this story was developed before any spoilers were out (obviously), so any similarity that arises is utterly coincidental.**_

_**Excited about shifting the backdrop for this whole story, I found that this storyline reeled me back in and **__**demanded**__** to be written-twenty pages the first day I picked it back up. I was held hostage. I am not kidding. In fact, I wrote all of the chapter titles first and then wrote the chapters. That was a first for me.**_

_**Unfortunately, inspiration departed just as abruptly as it had arrived, and then it continued to play hide and seek for quite some time after—making writing this a roller coaster ride. I can't forget the idea, and yet I am still struggling with this more than I have in any fic I can remember writing. **_

_**The reason for telling you all this is that I'm being reckless and spontaneous here (not my nature). I am departing from my original plan of writing this entire story before posting any of it. Posting without everything planned and with kinks remaining in the storyline worked really well for me last time. I hope your reviews will inspire me to fight through and resolve the issues I haven't been able to put to rest. You have no idea how much I hope reading goes more smoothly than the writing process did!**_

_**I would be remiss if I didn't thank my GCatsPJ's pal for helping me settle upon this title ages ago. I am so happy to finally be able to post a story with it!**_

_**Hope you'll enjoy reading here. Please let me know what you think!**_

_**P.S. I do not now and shall never own Bones. Or Booth (except in my dreams).]**_

**The Heart in the Vise**

_Oh, to love someone intensely and to be loved wholeheartedly in return... To feel-whether with or without 'that incredible someone' - as if my heart were in a vise. Oh, to love recklessly and with utter abandon-even when it's extremely painful, even if it's dangerous, especially when love shouldn't be enough... but somehow can be more than enough anyway._

**Chapter 1: The Awkwardness in the Return**

Silent, synchronized steps fell on shadow-darkened tiles.

Special Agent Seeley Booth and world-renowned forensic anthropologist Dr. Temperance Brennan continued to walk deliberately through the long, dark hallways in the maze of a dank basement in the long-abandoned building. Remaining close to one another, the partners inched their way carefully and quietly down the third hallway they'd searched, each lost in his own thoughts. Flashes of lightning and the roar of thunder and wind from the storm outside did nothing to reduce the tension in the atmosphere around them. It was as if an ominous shadow hung over both of the partners.

Trying to discern images of real things in rooms crowded with eerie shadows dancing a waltz of sheer foreboding, Booth paused at each door they encountered to look inside for the criminal for whom they were searching. They'd been tracking this particular killer for weeks, and Booth's frustration with the leads that continued to fizzle or dead-end had peaked. He was tense; the adrenaline pumped wildly in his veins, and his muscles were locked into uncomfortable knots as he continued the dangerous search for the criminal he and his partner were focused on apprehending.

As he tried to keep his mind clear and his focus sharp, Booth had to admit that he'd reached his limit. He was ready to take this creep down. He ached to finish this jerk off and didn't even pause to consider that this had been the first time he'd felt the urge to draw blood since before rejoining the army. He knew without consciously thinking about it that he hadn't felt this wound up about catching a perp since the Gravedigger. That in itself should have been cause for alarm. The fact that he also felt the need to prove himself in this first case back from his latest stint in the military made it even more stressful.

Fortunately, that singular sobering thought had finally been enough to help Booth shake out the cobwebs and focus all of his energy and skill on continuing their search for the latest murderer—the one Hodgins had dubbed "the Taker." Booth hated that moniker as much as he detested the faceless person it represented. He really hated the fact that the nickname had stuck.

As she crept along slowly behind Booth trying not to distract him from his search-and her protection, Temperance Brennan's focus was directed more on her partner than on their environment. As much as she still hated psychology, she considered that her intense scrutiny of her partner was more than likely a defense mechanism. She simply hadn't wanted to dwell upon the work they were doing in that moment, so she posited that her brain must have shifted her attention to Booth so that she didn't have to think about the dangerous, unpredictable work they faced.

Once that thought had registered and been processed, it had been simpler for Brennan to remind herself how much she hated psychology than to acknowledge that thinking about Booth had become as natural a process for her as breathing or as using any of her senses. Through the early years of their partnership, he'd managed to chip away at her reserve and her façade, somehow managing to monopolize her time (not that she was complaining about that) while embedding himself in nearly every aspect of her life—even in her sacred work at the laboratory.

She'd been overwhelmed last year when he'd reached out to her and asked her for even more—for her heart. She'd felt stifled, afraid that she'd be enveloped by Booth completely, and terrified that she might not be able to handle the compromises that might require and that she might hurt him in that failing. So she'd run away toward the opportunity of a career-lifetime wondering if she'd really run away from something she might actually need even more.

While she'd been away from Booth for nearly a year—for the eight months she'd spent in Maluku and then back at home documenting the results of the dig while he completed his tour of duty in Afghanistan, her thoughts had so often drifted to him that she had long since stopped acknowledging the fact that they did so. Irrational though it had been, that long, hard, lonely year away from her partner had not been spent thinking about him less or becoming more comfortable not being so immersed in working with him.

Oh, she'd reveled in the opportunity to lead the team in Maluku and enabled them to complete the first phase of the dig ahead of schedule. She had been energized by time spent in the remote jungles and by discovering remains and artifacts with such anthropological significance. She'd enjoyed putting her mark on the field by leading a team of top experts in more than six months of incredible scientific discovery about the evolution of humankind. Not surprisingly, she'd adapted well and engrossed herself in her work. She'd been the first one working each morning and one of the last to stop each evening. She'd eaten well and enough to stay healthy, exercised as regularly as the weather and her workload would allow, stayed in touch with her family and friends more often than she'd expected, developed an idea for her next work of fiction, and penned three impressive, widely acclaimed articles. Even by Brennan's high standards, her time in Maluku had been extraordinarily successful, and she'd returned to the Jeffersonian refreshed and eager to immerse herself in pure science until her partner returned.

Success and considerable accomplishment aside, Brennan's heart clenched when she considered how much she had missed Booth while they'd been apart. Although he'd been the person with whom she'd wanted to communicate most, the logistics of his work in a war zone had severely limited their contact. Sometimes it had been months before she had been able to see video evidence that he was still alive and breathing. His e-mails had been brief. She knew that his words had been limited by necessity and by his desire to minimize her worries. She had felt uncomfortable considering the fact that his brevity might also have been a result of the pain she'd inflicted upon him by refusing his overture to her.

Despite the fact that a substantial portion of their routine communication during their partnership had been through e-mail and text messages, she had found relying upon such forms of communication during their year apart unsatisfactory. She had clung to each opportunity to hear his voice over an impromptu phone call or a scheduled videoconference. More often than not, she had shed tears when those calls ended, rationalizing that it had been normal that she missed her partner because he was also her very best friend. She had hated the fact that some small part of her had called her a liar for pretending that missing her friend had been the only reason that clicking off each call with him made her feel so sad and so alone.

With thoughts of that separation and its significance weighing her down, Temperance now observed her partner more carefully—with as much scrutiny as the low light and their constant movement would allow. Booth was leaner now—in better shape. His hair was still military-short, but it was starting to grow out to look more "Booth-y." Booth was now a bit more serious than he'd been before their time apart—it took him longer to crack a joke or to tease her about things these days. But he was still Booth, and she didn't think that she'd ever tire of watching him work and being near him and being his partner. Suddenly emotional as she watched the tick of his jaw and realized how tense he was and how worried she was about him, Brennan's thoughts shifted back from her partner to the situation they were now facing.

She had never adapted to feeling ill-at-ease and avoided such situations. Yet, this situation made it unavoidable for her to escape that feeling. Despite the rush of adrenaline stemming from the potential to catch the suspect, Brennan had always felt less comfortable with this part of their partnership. That had been one reason she often rushed in "recklessly" and upset her partner. She wanted to rush through this part and find and arrest the murderer. She needed that closure, that finality, and for this part of their work to be over. She much preferred the initial retrieval of remains and the calm, sterile, controlled environment of the lab. She also remained fascinated with questioning the criminals and learning the reasons for their sordid or violent behaviors. She definitely enjoyed hours spent hypothesizing with Booth about a murder and all other aspects of the work their partnership had been founded upon to this—this chaotic time in each case that put her partner at risk. There had been times in the past—many of them, in fact—during which the sheer rush of the experience of pursuing a criminal had sent her lurching ahead and racing toward danger. But those feelings of excitement and anticipation now paled in comparison to the dread she felt as she sidled along down the hallway with her partner. Since they'd returned to their partnership after a long year apart, she'd dreaded the return to this part of their work and had returned to it hesitantly—much more for Booth's sake than her own.

Out here in Booth's world of searching blindly and following instincts to try to locate someone trying not to be found, she couldn't feel comfortable. Trying to assure herself of their progress and the likelihood that they'd remain safe, she analyzed the situation in multiple ways-by counting rooms and eliminating proportions of the floor for them to search. But this analysis of facts brought her no comfort. Despite years of practice dealing with the frenzied pace and danger this part of their jobs brought, she hadn't been able to put her tensions and worries to rest when they'd gone back out into the field. Naturally, her discomfort had been magnified by the fact that she still was not allowed to carry a weapon when they were on official FBI business. But that hadn't been the crux of the problem. Her time away from Booth had affected her by making her worry more—not less-about him.

With an awareness that she hadn't allowed to overtake her in prior years, Brennan realized that-out here-her partner was stretched to his limit, and she hadn't been convinced that he was completely ready for such an intense life-or-death assignment. Of course, she didn't have the heart to tell him that he should take more time off and give himself more of an opportunity to adapt to life off the battlefield. Voicing her concerns would have been tantamount to telling Booth that she doubted him. She just couldn't do that to him. The truth was that she didn't actually doubt him; she just hoped that he didn't doubt himself.

Since his return from Afghanistan, Booth had looked and sounded and acted mostly like the old Booth, but she could see clearly that he remained uneasy and not quite himself. She still trusted him and his instincts implicitly, but she had been concerned by the worry lines that often furrowed her partner's brow. He had been on edge and determined to pretend that he wasn't. What hurt had been that he wouldn't talk about his distress with her. She strongly suspected that he avoided her so that she wouldn't demand that he do so. As a result, they hadn't met for many meals or found reasons to talk to each other outside the lab. Since his return, their lives had continued to be mostly separate—mirroring their year apart more than resembling the intimate partnership they had been immersed in before their chosen separation.

Brennan knew that her partner needed to get back out into the field and be the cop he was destined to be. She could tell that he ached to get back to normal and to put this difficult year away serving bravely behind him. She had to admit that that's what she had wanted to do, also. After her return from Maluku, her instincts had been to lock herself in the lab until she'd been able to identify a body from bone storage—or twenty. She'd actually identified far more bodies than that while also assisting with several other notable projects in the four months she had waited for Booth to return. She'd had two-thirds of a year to spend proving that she could still do what she'd been born to accomplish. But she'd also needed to return to the life she'd had before—to her productive work at the lab-just to prove to herself that she could still do what she'd spent years doing on her own and with Booth there.

Since she could understand what he might be feeling, helping Booth adjust to life back at the bureau had become even more important than her own reorientation at the lab upon his return. He'd faced the most danger and strayed farthest from their typical casework during his time away from DC. He was now the one who needed most to prove that he was still an expert at his work. She'd only bolstered her international reputation and acclaim by taking her sabbatical. In contrast, while his peers at the bureau admired Booth for his courage and his sacrifice, the agency culture dictated that he had to "earn" his way back into his old job.

Immersing himself in tracking bad guys had been the logical approach for Booth to take to ground himself in his job and his life at home. Brennan couldn't fault him for following logic and doing what he needed to do. So, even though it was a far less comfortable environment for her, she'd ignored her own need to excel in her work at the lab and been adamant that she'd be there at his side to work all aspects of the case in the field. She needed to do something to chase away that shadow that hung over her partner these days. She wanted to remind him how good he was at his job as well as to help him remember that he was no longer fighting in a war zone.

Despite her complete determination to stand by him and help him regain his confidence in his work at the bureau, Temperance wished that they had the benefit of additional FBI staff for backup. This murderer had become known for his particularly violent behavior and his consistent ability to elude police and to leave minimal evidence at crime scenes. She knew that there was little room for error in their search. This killer would not submit to capture without a fight and had proven to be capable of causing great harm to people of a variety of shapes and sizes. Booth was practically on his own to apprehend the killer if he were on that floor, and she worried for his safety.

There had been another team searching the upper floors, but they weren't close enough to be of any real help if something happened. Bones wasn't accustomed to feeling anything but completely safe in Booth's presence. It wasn't that she actually felt afraid. It took much more than facing a killer to frighten her. But she had been barraged with nagging thoughts that kept reminding her that Booth might not be able to manage this search with only her help. Those thoughts felt like a betrayal of her partner and bothered her more than she'd admit even to herself. She had always dismissed such feelings easily on the rare occasions they had ever crossed her mind, but she now found herself plagued by them as they wandered in search of a calculated murderer. In the dark and unarmed, Brennan felt defenseless and out of control. She was not comfortable being either, and she hated feeling like just another risk for her partner to balance. She could see the tension wafting off of him as he led her down the corridor.

The hallway they were now searching remained whisper quiet. Booth continually worked to make sure that he placed himself between any potential danger and Temperance. That had been not an easy task given that she had always been poised immediately behind him, as eager as he had been to see what lie ahead.

Agent Booth continued to nudge his partner gently behind him, stopping from time to time in the hallways to remind her that she was supposed to watch his back. That had been the only rationale he'd been able to come up with to encourage her to stay behind him. He had been uneasy enough about tracking this creep into this dark building, but his partner's actions weren't helping him focus on the task at hand. He'd nearly forgotten how recklessly his partner pursued the truth and put herself at risk. He couldn't stand the thought that she might do so now-not now that they were both back home and working together again.

Trying not to distract him, Brennan attempted to follow his lead and maintain the same pace but she too often slammed into him in her eagerness to stay close and be part of what happened. Once or twice, he rolled his eyes, frustrated by the impact of her body ramming into his. The close, physical contact had been even more frustrating to him because his partner hardly seemed to notice the way that she had been distracting him. He knew that she had not been trying to torture him by accosting him with her body. She was just being his partner and trying to help.

Yet each bump and collision reminded him all too painfully of the separation he didn't want between them. Every time she fell against him, he was reminded that she wasn't falling for him-she didn't have feelings for him. Each time her smaller frame crashed into his it was a stark reminder that she couldn't still be drawn to his body—not the way that he still craved hers. She'd had a year to compartmentalize and forget the knot of emotions that had never left his gut. He knew all too well that he remained the only one confused and distracted by feelings like that, so each unintentional touch distracted him a bit more. The fact that he had been the only one wound up and frazzled by the continued physical contact with her made him more and more frustrated as they continued their search.

Sighing and reminding himself that they were there to track a dangerous murderer, Booth inched slowly down the hallway toward the next room. Uncharacteristically, he found himself hoping that the team upstairs had already found the person they all were searching to find. Just a few more rooms and he and Bones would be able to meet up with the larger team. Just a few more rooms and Bones wouldn't be in danger any longer. Just a few more rooms and….

Instinctively sensing the presence of someone else nearby, Booth slowed and held his hand out to stop his partner from careening into him yet again. He nodded toward the door to let her know that he suspected that someone was inside. Wordlessly warning Temperance to stay where she was, he took a deep breath and burst into the next room.

Instead of finding the murderer or another victim, Booth had been shocked to see the woman sitting atop the table with her long legs crossed, seemingly waiting for him to arrive.

Smiling, she greeted him, "Well, hello Seeley..."

_**[A/N: Up next, Chapter 2: Uncertainty about the Uninvited. Won't answer all of your questions, but it's a start.]**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**[A/N: Wow. More than wow. Your reviews were amazing! I am so very grateful for the response you gave to the beginning of this tale. And so many of you have this on "alert," too! My inbox was full, and I was grinning wildly about that!**_

_**I'm still grappling with parts of this story, but I thought I'd go ahead and give you a bit more about what's going on with our favorite duo. Please do let me know what you like or if there are things that seemed hokey or not to fit. Reviews are truly inspiring! Yours are the best!**_

_**Disclaimer: Only wish I owned Bones. But I'll settle for watching and re-watching, and re-watching, and re-watching….]**_

Chapter 2: Uncertainty about the Uninvited

Temperance Brennan was more than frustrated. As soon as they'd entered that room in the building, she'd been unable to understand what had been happening. While she did not know any of the other parties and could not have anticipated their behaviors, she'd been extremely confused by her partner. Booth had always explained and interpreted for her when circumstances were unusual or cloaked in FBI secrecy, but he hadn't tonight. What he had done had stunned her into silence-he'd sent her away without answering any of her questions.

She had been concerned about him. The presence of that… that female FBI agent had clearly unnerved him. Brennan had disliked the woman immediately. She convinced herself that it had nothing to do with the intimate way in which the woman had addressed her partner or the sickening feeling she'd had as she watched the woman scrutinize Booth's body approvingly. She also told herself that it had nothing to do with the fire she'd seen in her partner's eyes as he recognized her.

Unlike Brennan, Booth had immediately understood the significance of the evening's events and had taken defensive action. Dealing with this was unbearable for him personally; he could not stomach allowing his partner to witness his humiliation first-hand.

After exhaling sharply, he had surprised Temperance by pulling her back out into the hallway. Confused by the maneuver, she tried to read him and detected flashes of anger, hurt, anxiety and frustration but couldn't pin down the predominant emotion affecting him in that moment. She opened her mouth to demand information from him, but Booth held up a finger and pressed it to her lips before she could speak.

She experienced an unexpected yet overwhelming sensation the moment his finger made contact with her lips. That simple act of placing his phalanges upon her lips sent shockwaves no less intense than if he'd kissed her running through her. She was stunned by the unanticipated jolt to her system, but her confusion and frustration demanded that she address them. She stood there watching him carefully as he took a deep breath to try to regain some semblance of composure, failing miserably. She noticed that he looked tired and worn, and she was instantly concerned for his well being. She wanted to help; she needed to support him and help him deal with whatever was upsetting him. But this was Booth, and she couldn't tell him that she knew he was breaking on the inside. Even though his beautiful brown eyes conveyed a deep wound and an even deeper sadness, saying aloud that she knew he'd been hurt would make it even more real for him. She couldn't voice that concern because he appeared to be trying very hard to ignore the fact that he was in terrible pain.

"Bones, I need you to do me a favor," he said much too calmly, refusing to move his finger from her lips until he had been assured that she wouldn't hit him with a barrage of questions he wasn't composed enough to answer.

She nodded almost imperceptibly, searching his face carefully again as he pulled himself together. "Go out to my truck and call the lab to see if they've found anything else on cause of death or location."

"Booth...," she mumbled straining against the pressure of his finger against her lips. She had her cell phone in her pocket; she could make the call right there. Wasting time to go to his Sequoia for the call would be irrational. Her heart sank when she realized that his asking her to go outside was just a way for him to ask her for space without telling her he needed it.

Booth sighed as he watched the realization wash over her and looked at her desperately. She wanted to rush into his arms and hug him. Booth actually almost looked afraid. But she could tell that now was not the right time for her to touch him. He looked fragile somehow, and, since there was nothing fragile about the man before her, that image was terribly disturbing.

"Please, Bones. I need you to wait in the car. I'll be out in a few minutes." The look on his face had been so miserable that it had brought tears to her eyes. As he spoke, he slowly moved his hand away and… finding himself uncertain what to do with it, he shoved it into his pocket and leaned against the wall heavily, his shoulders slumped miserably.

"Are you okay, Booth?" she asked, knowing instinctively that he was not.

He did not lie to her. Instead, he avoided her question, "I'll be out in a few minutes," he said quietly. "Go on outside and call the lab."

Glancing at him to let him know that she was only leaving because he requested it, Temperance turned and walked down the dark hallway, pausing to look back at him again before rounding the corner and walking out to his SUV as he had asked.

Booth stood there regulating his heart rate as he watched her walk away from him before turning and storming back into the room and slamming the door behind him.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… __THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Later, in the SUV on the way back to the office, Temperance had delivered a predictably never-ceasing torrent of questions to her partner. To her dismay, Booth had been distracted and frustrated and not in much of a mood to talk. It seemed to Booth that the more he wanted peace and quiet, the more questions his partner felt compelled to ask. As he tried to collect his thoughts, he stalled and avoided as much as possible. However, Booth finally decided to answer a few questions to alleviate the concern evident on his partner's face. He just had to find a way to tell her what was happening while salvaging a portion of his tattered self-respect.

He glanced at her for a long moment, memorizing afresh the already familiar curves and planes of her beautiful face. She was speaking animatedly, trying to understand what had just happened, full of concern for him after his angry outburst. She'd never looked lovelier. He sighed. _Was there a part of his life that hadn't been shredded and left threadbare? Where was the strapping FBI agent ready to take on the world? Here he was being second-guessed by his agency while continuing to work platonically with the woman he loved. Oh yeah, he'd forgotten to remind himself that he had been working with her only because that's the only relationship she'd accepted with him. Pathetic._ He was entirely pathetic. He needed to hit the gym before he hit something else—or someone.

"Booth, I need to understand what is going on. I know that you're holding back information. We go out on a raid and end up finding no murderer, no victim, no vise..." Caught up in his emotion and frustration, Booth unintentionally began ignoring his partner's raving. _You're wrong, Bones. There sure as hell was a vise in that room… a metaphorical one so hideous that I have no words to begin to explain the pain it is inflicting upon me._

Temperance realized that she already had been worried about Booth before what had happened that evening. He'd been more quiet and withdrawn since his return. He had appeared to behave normally around her, but she sensed that he had been holding something back.

Things had been really awkward since they'd just picked up where they'd left off—without talking about the fact that they'd both run away from the relationship she'd refused to start with him. She told herself that they just needed time to be back together and working again before treading into those murky waters of emotional uncertainty. They were the center. They would hold. They just needed more time to find each other in the maze of their partnership again. That would solidify things and give them a foundation for discussing where they stood and how they should move forward as partners and friends—if nothing more.

As she glanced at her partner and ached for the pain he obviously felt that she was ill-equipped to help him shoulder, Temperance was struck afresh with the reality of their situation. Since his return (and even before), she'd been struggling to deal with the intensity with which she'd missed him while she'd been in Maluku and with the subtle changes in him since their return. Now she was confronted with confusion about why Booth might be being observed by the bureau. Their partnership couldn't be secure if Booth's own position had been in question. She knew that this had to be killing him and hated the fact that he refused to discuss it with her.

His partner had been demanding answers in true Temperance Brennan style. And he was sure that she wouldn't stop until he told her something fact-based upon which she could secure her footing. He knew that she needed explanations, but he had so few to offer that would provide her any solace without ripping away the remainder of his self-respect.

Booth sighed. Of course she didn't understand—he didn't either. Working so closely again with her was in some ways a comfort but in other ways the worst torture. Immersing himself in her life again had been hard enough since they were only partners and he still wanted so much more. Working with her when his agency had betrayed him and questioned his abilities so blatantly would be next to impossible-not if he wanted to retain any semblance of an ego at all. Some alpha male he'd be without an ego. _Hmpfh._

What he really needed was to pacify Bones and get back to headquarters so that he could have a few choice words with his boss. He was seething and ready to vent his frustration on someone who might intervene. Today's farce had been unwarranted and unnecessary and a waste of time and resources-never mind that it had delivered a harsh blow to his already shaky ego.

Booth fumed whenever he allowed himself to consider what had happened. He'd already passed every test, leapt over every hurdle, and had Sweets proclaiming from the rooftop of the Hoover Building that he was fit for work. He was Special Agent Seeley Booth, dammit, and he deserved more respect than this. Had they come to him and expressed their concerns or voiced their reservations or encouraged him to take additional time off or done something else to prepare for his return to the field, he'd have argued and he'd have done so loudly, but he'd have listened and done what they suggested. They damn well knew that. He was a company man. He followed orders. They'd had plenty of options other than humiliating him in front of his partner and agents half his age who barely knew which end of their weapons to hold.

The way that they were handling this rattled Booth to his professional core. He was accustomed to being the one who observed others and looked for signs of weakness in them. Having the tables turned on him made him down right angry. Despite the fact that he was even more accustomed to following orders without question after his latest military tour, he'd already decided that he'd go way up the bureaucratic ladder if he had to-to put an end to this nonsense.

He was nobody's lab rat. He wasn't going to put up with fake missions and false leads designed to test his skills and his stamina. He was furious that they'd made his partner witness his performance in their damned test. That certainly hadn't been necessary. He hated the doubts he could see floating in her eyes when she looked at him.

Dammit, Booth knew that he would put himself up against anybody in the bureau—any one of them. He could be quiet and self-deprecating with the best of them, but that didn't mean he was actually under-confident in his abilities. He had a healthy ego; he just chose to shine the spotlight on others so that he could control his own circumstances more easily.

He remembered all too clearly how-even at half-speed-he had proven during his recovery from the brain tumor that he could kick most of their asses. He was that good at his job. And his year away had done nothing to detract from his ability. In many ways it had served to hone skills that had become rusty as he sat at a desk and worked on a computer instead of spending most of his time in the field. Booth knew in his core that he wasn't an unstable or troubled veteran who couldn't handle the pressure of returning to post-combat danger and investigations. He'd been clear-headed and insightful enough to make a mental list of the guys in his unit who had been likely to head down that path and had made certain to ask his replacement to watch out for them. He was e-mailing each of them regularly to keep tabs on them himself. His own name hadn't been on that list because it freaking didn't need to be. Ironically, the fact that they were making Bones consider that he might not be fit for duty had been the only thing he'd experienced that had been intense enough to make him feel unstable.

After considering his options, Booth pulled the car into the parking garage at the Jeffersonian and turned to face her as he spoke, "Bones, I'm fine. This... This is just standard bureau protocol. They just wanted to make sure that I'm on top of my game. I am, you know... on top of my game. I'm back. You don't have to worry. I am perfectly able to do my job... and to keep you safe."

"Booth, I have complete confidence in your abilities. You are a highly trained, exceptionally skilled agent. You're my partner, and I trust you completely. But I heard you talking to... that woman. You were quite angry. You told her you weren't going to put up with things like this. It didn't sound like standard protocol to me."

He sighed. He didn't want to lie to her. But he didn't want to explain how humiliated he had been, either. She watched as he seemed even more bowed by the weight of his worries. She opted to squelch her need to know the truth temporarily for his sake. Even she could see that Booth needed more than her questions just then.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly as she placed a tentative hand upon his forearm to proffer comfort and support.

He swallowed hard and nodded, looking out the window to hide the emotion he refused to allow her to see. "Thanks, Bones."

"If it would help, I'd be happy to talk to Andrew about this ridiculous test of your skills, Booth. Certainly if presented with additional evidence of your capability, he could do something to help."

Booth shook his head miserably. Having his well-meaning partner defending him would only make him appear even more weak and vulnerable. Being neither, he just couldn't stomach the thought. "I appreciate the offer and your willingness to help, Bones. But I've got this."

"What can I do, Booth? How can I help?" she offered, squeezing his arm and gazing at him with so much concern that it sent him reeling. God, what he felt for his woman was enough to choke him most days, but her complete devotion to him now was even harder to handle given where they'd left things between them.

_Love me, be with me, take a chance on me, let me love you_, his heart screamed in a silence only he could hear. He grappled for something else he could actually discuss with her.

"You know what you can do for me? You and the squints can find more evidence. Tonight was a bust and a waste of our time, but there has to be something else—another lead—something that might help us ID the Taker. The sooner we find him and put him out of business, the sooner things will get back to normal."

She could have interjected to correct him by reminding him that they hadn't yet determined the gender of the serial killer. Years ago, she'd have been powerless not to do so. But she choked back that logical response in favor of one better suited to showing emotional support for her partner. "I will. I'll go over all of the evidence again. I'll start tonight. But Booth…. You shouldn't have to face whatever is happening at the bureau alone. We're partners. Let me help or at least let me be there with you," she offered again. She watched as he buried the emotion he had been feeling even deeper so that she'd allow him to walk away and handle this problem without her.

"Things will be fine, Bones. This was just... I just need to clarify some things with Hacker and a few other people. I don't want any more bureaucratic stupidity sidelining us. We have a murderer to catch. That's what we do."

She smiled at him as if to convince him that she believed he was more hopeful than he was, "We will catch this murderer, Booth. We'll work together as we always have. This will be our first big successful case since we reactivated our partnership. We'll do this... together."

"Yeah. I know. Thanks, Bones," he said, offering her as genuine a smile as he could muster.

"Call me if you need anything, okay?" she asked as she released his arm and reached for the lever to open the door.

"Everything will be fine, Bones. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?" he replied as he slipped out of the driver's side of the SUV and walked around to accompany her into the building. "Stay here or call that number I gave you for an escort home, okay Bones?"

"I'll be here at the lab. Don't worry. You stay safe, too," she said as her emotions choked off her words. She literally ached with the all too vivid memory of other similar conversations spanning the vast ocean and the desert they'd shared intermittently over the past year. During those conversations, she had literally craved his presence, his touch, the way his proximity comforted her, a glimpse of his beautifully symmetric face and those chocolate brown eyes that warmed her from the inside out. She was blasted with those same emotions in that moment.

Despite the irrationality of "missing" him while he was mere feet away from her, seeing him suffer like this now brought those longings back full force. She wanted to turn around and hug him and promise him that everything would be okay between them, but things between them were still too tenuous and strained. She could tell that Booth had been shaken. She knew that he didn't need to deal with emotional remonstrations from her on top of his own job difficulties in that moment.

Their walk into the Jeffersonian was eerily quiet. Each had been lost in his own thoughts about the evening's events. As he paused in the doorway to her office, she entered it and removed her jacket and placed it on the coat rack.

"Thanks again, Bones. I'll call you tomorrow," he said quietly as he turned to leave the lab.

"Booth?" she called after him, causing him to turn back around to face her. The moment his eyes drank her in, she rushed into him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

They stood there in the doorway to her office, clinging to one another as if for dear life. Booth's initial shock melted into surprise and then into gratitude for the simple way in which her touch calmed his very soul. She gripped him tightly, unable and unwilling to let him leave without knowing that she was still his partner, still his friend, and—she hoped he could sense-still trying to figure out how to be something more.

Choked up and trying not to show it, Booth finally released his tight grip on her. She fought the desire to hold on and slowly allowed her arms to let go of him. Unable to stop herself, she grabbed his tie and held him near long enough for her to whisper, "Anything you need, Booth. Anything," as he nodded and turned to leave the lab.

As he left the building, Booth sighed audibly. God, he loved Bones even more for making that offer even though he knew she hadn't been offering the one thing he wanted from her most.

Still, Bones was wholeheartedly in his corner, and knowing that made it easier for him to pull himself together and brace for the battle ahead. He was a soldier. Battle was something he knew well. He was definitely ready for battle.


	3. Chapter 3

_**[A/N: Things here are really hectic. I think it's pretty funny that I posted this to pressure myself into "fixing" this story. To date, I've only made slight mental progress working through the kinks in this story. Wonder if I'll find time to write myself out of those issues as we draw nearer to those chapters.**_

_**I am absolutely astounded by your generous reviews! Took forever to reach this number of reviews and alerts with my first story! You are wonderful for making the time to read and to comment here!**_

_**Disclaimer: I adore Bones, but I don't own it or have any connection to the TV show or its characters other than my complete fascination with and admiration of the genius of both.]**_

Chapter 3: The Snarl of the Sniper

"Beware the fury of a patient man." ~~ John Dryden

The following morning, Booth had picked up his office phone and called Eleanor as soon as she'd sat down at her desk at 6:15 a.m. Bypassing the typical pleasantries, Booth demanded a meeting with Hacker as early as possible. Eleanor had tried to hold him off under the pretext of Hacker's busy schedule but the barely controlled rage she heard in Booth's voice had encouraged her to bump Hacker's nine o'clock meeting to the afternoon.

The agent's terse "thanks" had convinced her that she'd done the right thing. Agent Booth had always gone out of his way to be polite to her, and he seldom showed up to rant at his boss—in fact, he usually only did so when necessary to bring about justice in a case. Unfortunately, most agents weren't so respectful or level-headed. She'd dealt with many of them showing up and demanding time and attention from their boss for ridiculous reasons or inane personal matters. She supposed that Booth should be allowed his turn to blow off steam as well. That idea was made even more appealing by the thought that she'd get a view of him all riled up and angry. _Mmmm... Angry Seeley Booth would be even more delectable than usual. _Smiling, she realized that she had something delightful to ponder as she prepared the deputy director's paperwork for the afternoon.

At precisely 8:59 a.m., Seeley Booth stepped off the elevator dressed impeccably, rushed past Eleanor's desk without a greeting, pounded on the deputy director's door, and entered the office without waiting for an invitation. He hadn't noticed the flush of Eleanor's cheeks as he'd strode in and mesmerized her with his angry, impatient behavior.

Once inside, it took all the willpower Booth could muster to stop and stand still and ball his hands into fists to control his fury. His every instinct had been telling him this had been Hacker's fault—or Sweets'—and that he had been justified in storming over and threatening the man into changing his mind.

"Agent Booth, why don't you have a seat?" Hacker said in his most polished agent's tone. Unfortunately, Booth had an even more honed set of skills and wasn't willing to let the man's smarmy smile and warm welcome diffuse his anger at all.

"I'd prefer to stand, sir," Booth barked stiffly. Hacker had spent time as a special agent before moving into administration. His own gut was telling him that he was facing a highly volatile situation. Booth's refusal to sit meant that this wasn't going to blow over quickly. It was blatantly obvious that the man looked even more strong and fit after his recent military training, and Hacker would have bet money that time in the military had done nothing to take the edge off Booth's anger management issues.

Hacker swallowed the nervousness bubbling up from his antacid-coated stomach and spoke. "So that's how you want to play this-no pleasantries. Fine. I was briefed this morning by Agent Patterson. I can only assume that you are here to voice your displeasure about the drill to which you were subjected. Am I correct?"

"Displeasure is too civilized a word for what I'm feeling at the moment," Booth spat through barred teeth.

"Well Booth, you have to consider that the case you've leapt back into is an extremely difficult one, and we need to have every assurance that you are prepared to handle it professionally," Hacker began before Booth's glare choked off his words.

"**You **certified me field-ready. **Sweets** certified me field-ready. I passed every single test you gave me, sir. I did more than pass-I blew the top out of every single exam. Distracting me from the case I'm working hard for some stupid test I could have passed my first year with the bureau was disrespectful and a slap in the face after all the years I've served this agency faithfully."

"So you think you're above review and examination? Sorry, son, but you work for the government," Hacker deflected.

Booth had expected that craptastic response and had been ready to jump on it, "What I **think**... is that I deserve honest and constructive assessment and feedback. My years and my dedication here have earned me that much. I came back on time—just as I had committed to do. I jumped through every hoop you gave me without complaining. I haven't been off on sabbatical or on vacation, Hacker. I've been serving in the army and training people how to keep our country free and how to keep themselves from coming home in flag-draped caskets. I've been working harder than you have doing things I'm uniquely qualified for, and my work there has only improved my ability to do my job here. You have no reason to doubt me."

Hacker knew better than to interrupt Booth's tirade, so he sat and let the man continue. "Why tell me you think I'm field-ready and then subject me to some stupid test? It's not just a waste of time and resources… it's disrespectful and unwarranted. And dragging my partner into it..., well that just crossed the damned line."

"So that's what's eating you, isn't it? You're embarrassed that Temperance was there to witness the test. She does have high standards. What's wrong with that, Booth? Are you afraid she won't work with you if we question your competency?" Hacker had always sensed that Booth did not approve of his dating his partner, and couldn't resist the urge to poke him a bit because of it.

"Temperance Brennan is on record stating that she refuses to work with any other agent from this agency EXCEPT FOR ME. I am more than competent to do my job, and I will not let you or anyone else question my allegiance to my partnership with Bones!" Booth growled, clenching his fists and taking a threatening step forward.

Hacker knew that Booth would rein in his emotions and treat him with respect since he was his superior, but he felt a new trail of sweat trickle down his back, "I can question your partnership anytime I want, Agent Booth. But your partner's a big part of the reason for the test, Seeley. She's a high-profile consultant with visibility and connections. We have to be confident that she'll be protected when she works on our cases. We have to be cautious and not take any chances with her working the case."

"I have never given ANYONE reason to doubt my willingness to lay down my life to protect my partner!" Booth actually yelled at his superior.

"Agent Booth, you will lower your voice, or you will leave my office," Hacker leapt to his feet and spoke while trying to conceal his own frustration and intimidation.

Reluctantly, Booth swallowed hard and tried to reign in his anger with the man standing before him. He had been barely able to do so. Years of being subjected to rigid rules and bureaucracy had trained him for this but his emotions were threatening to wipe away his ability to deal with the cruelty of this situation.

"Look," Hacker began again once Booth had calmed down. "I know you're angry. I know this seems unfair. This wasn't my call, Booth. I'm following orders here, too. I know you won't believe me, but I believe that you're ready. I know that you'll keep Temperance safe. But you know how this place works. You have to leap over hurdles, and I can't pull them out of your way. If you want to work this case with your partner, then you have to do it the bureau's way or not at all."

"Well, was that it? Did I pass the test? And why the hell was Patterson there—who called her in from Philly?"

"I am not at liberty to discuss personnel matters with you, Booth. Look, I'll go to bat for you and see if I can have them stop the drills. You aced last night's test. I'll make the case that you're field-ready."

Appeased slightly, Booth thanked him, "I would appreciate that."

Shaking his head, Hacker continued, knowing that Booth was not going to like what he said next. "The Director has insisted that Patterson shadow you for a trial period as you get reacclimated."

"No. No way. Find someone else."

"It's Patterson, Booth. That's non-negotiable."

"What? Is she sleeping with the Director or something?" Booth lashed out angrily.

"I'd keep your speculation about her personal life and the Director's out of my office, Booth. What's your beef with Patterson? She's a rock solid agent."

Just when he had calmed down, Booth's temper flared again wildly. He honestly didn't know how he managed to stop himself from leaping over the desk and grinding Hacker into tiny pieces, "Stop pretending you don't already know the answer to that question. It's in my file, and I damn well know it's in hers. This is blatant harassment. I should file a grievance."

"Complaining's not your style, Booth, and it won't convince management that you're back at 100 percent."

"I don't need a babysitter. I have never needed a babysitter. Not even when I was a grunt first-year. Patterson still holds a grudge from way back. She'll just make trouble. She was too damned happy watching me figure out that you were testing me and questioning my abilities. I don't have to prove myself to anyone—especially to her. I don't need that kind of distraction, sir. Bones and I have a serial killer to catch."

"I'll have a talk with Patterson and ask her to stay out of your way, but I'm afraid you'll be stuck with her."

"For how long?"

"I have no idea."

"Great, that's just great," Booth grumbled realizing that he had no choice in the matter.

"Find some strong leads, and I'll have more leverage to ask them to take her off your watch," Hacker offered.

When Booth looked up at him to assess whether his boss had begun doubting him because of the slow progress on this case, Hacker looked him straight in the eye and responded.

"I'm in your corner, Seeley. I lost the battle to throw you back in the field without a shadow. Just go do your job as well as you always have, and I'll shut this down as soon as I can."

"Okay," Booth said, turning to leave the office and opening the door.

"Booth?" Hacker asked as he waited for the man to turn around to face him.

When Booth looked up at him, Hacker almost felt guilty for putting the agent back in his place. He knew all too well that Booth had shown remarkable restraint given the circumstances. He'd rather have bought the man a beer. But he knew other agents were out listening in the hallway and was determined to assert his position while he had the chance. Too many of them followed Booth around like he was in charge anyway. He couldn't allow the man to act as if he actually was in control of the office. So he spoke loudly enough for the listening ears to hear, "Don't come in here and yell at me like that again. Your work advancing my career hasn't been so good that I won't write you up for insubordination or pull you off of cases at the Jeffersonian."

"Yes, sir," Booth said quietly before closing the door and mumbling far too loudly—clearly loudly enough for Hacker to hear-about "pompous asses and their need to throw their weight around."

Eleanor watched as the still angry man left the office. As he glared at his peers who had circled like vultures outside to eavesdrop, the normally brave men scattered like marbles dropped on a tile floor when they felt the heat of Booth's stare.

Eleanor had to try to hide her smile as she watched Hacker slowly reopen the blinds to his office while trying to camouflage the fact that he had been wiping sweat from his brow in obvious relief. She couldn't help realizing that she was perspiring for entirely different reasons.

_**[A/N: Yes, I know we're moving slowly here and that you STILL don't know who that woman was. You'll find out in the next chapter. I thought an image of "angry" Booth might be a nice way to start the week of the Season 6 premiere! I cannot wait until Thursday night!]**_


	4. Chapter 4

_**[A/N: Here it is, the much-requested update explaining more about the woman in that first chapter. Hope it won't disappoint. **_

_**How exciting is it that Bones is back on TV? I had a very stressful week, but I've been grinning since I watched the premiere! So much potential for so much entertainment and so much character development! New Bones on TV plus fanfic to read always makes me a happier girl.]**_

Chapter 4: The Tarnish on the Trophy Bearer

Late that night, Booth had gone for a long run around the mall, spent an hour at the gym sparring with Ralph, his current favorite opponent, and been frustrated to realize that he still had too much pent up energy. He was ravenous, but he couldn't muster the initiative to go out and be amongst people who weren't having days as crappy as his had been. Instead, he headed back to his apartment hoping he could rustle up a sandwich or bowl of soup before showering and falling into bed to attempt sleep out of desperation to end the day. He couldn't remember being this angry and frustrated in quite some time. He hated the way that it took the edge off his control. He was afraid that something small would set him off. He hoped that he'd be able to sleep and that the morning might bring a better perspective and take the edge off his fury. Somehow he doubted that would be possible.

After unlocking the door and tossing his keys into the bowl on the table, Booth dropped his bag from the gym just inside the door and went to the kitchen. He poured a tall glass of water and drank it and then stood there a long moment just leaning forward with his hands against the kitchen counter. Food would have to wait. He needed a shower. Trying to stop dwelling on his problems, he put the glass in the sink and turned for his bathroom, pulling his t-shirt off and beginning to unbutton his jeans as he walked. He had been on the verge of entering the bathroom when he heard a knock at the door. He'd been sorely tempted to ignore it, but something had pulled him back down the hallway to answer.

When he opened the door, Bones was standing there holding up a box of Thai takeout. Assuming he'd invite her in, she pressed past him, taking the box into the kitchen and swallowing hard. She found it extraordinarily difficult to suppress the flush of her cheeks and the rise in her body temperature that had accompanied her viewing of her partially dressed, sweat-soaked partner.

As she moved unbidden into his personal space, she complained about the e-mail message she'd received late that afternoon informing her about the "shadow agent" with whom they'd be working. Sighing and really wanting not to talk about this with her, Booth closed the door and paused briefly inside the kitchen. Even as low as he felt, the sight of Bones ranting as she pulled out plates and utensils and his favorite Thai items made him smile. She paused, likely feeling the way he'd been staring at her, and looked at him for a long moment.

"Thanks for bringing the food, Bones. I'm starving. I just need a shower first. Go ahead and start without me. I'll be right back," he said with as sincere a smile as he could manage.

"You're welcome," she said as she looked at him with a thousand questions on the tip of her tongue. She hardly ever felt the need to filter her conversation with Booth, but she was unexpectedly nervous about pressing him for answers. Perhaps it was the way that his eyes looked so sad or the unusually heavy slump of the trapezius and deltoid muscles in those wonderfully muscled shoulders of his. Ever aware of her social limitations, she hoped that she'd done the right thing by coming over. She tried to ignore the knot in her stomach as she worked to prepare a plate of all the items Booth liked best.

Dissatisfied with the effect the shower had on his considerable stress, Booth toweled off and threw on a t-shirt and sweatpants before following the aroma of Thai food back into his kitchen. Bones greeted him with a plate of food and a beer before picking her own food up and settling with it on the sofa.

Temperance watched Booth pick at his food as they sat in silence on the sofa. Any decrease in his appetite was a warning sign. He'd always devoured his food, and he'd been eating as if making up for lost time since his return from desert army fare. Unable to resist the urge to encourage him to eat, Brennan made a grab or two at particular items on his plate and was pleased when he blocked her chopsticks and ate those items quickly to prevent her from stealing them. However, he didn't eat as much as he normally would, and he spent most of the time staring morosely at the television despite the fact that it hadn't been turned on.

At some point, Booth put his plate down and stood, eventually returning from the kitchen with a fresh beer for each of them. Sensing that he might be nearly ready to talk to her, Brennan placed her box down on the table and turned to face her partner, concern evident in her expression. She tilted her head at Booth as she scrutinized him and then crossed her legs and leaned back against the end of the sofa before speaking.

"I will not consent to work with anyone at the FBI other than you... and Agent Parotta on those rare occasions when you are incapacitated. I do not wish to work with Agent Patterson, and I will gladly inform Cam and the FBI that I refuse to work with her. But tell me, Booth. Aside from her intrusion upon our highly successful partnership, why don't _**you**_ want to work with her?"

Realizing that he owed it to his partner to explain part of the difficulty of the situation confronting them, Booth cracked his neck and downed half of his beer before staring at a hockey trophy of Parker's for a long moment. Then he began trying to explain to Bones what was going on and why he was so distraught about working with his nemesis.

Temperance listened patiently as Booth told her that he and Agent Fallon Patterson had attended the FBI Academy together years ago. His voice even despite the fact that his emotions were in turmoil, Booth explained that he and Patterson had had a stormy, competitive rivalry that had morphed quickly into an even steamier relationship. It had been a typical love-hate relationship that also fit the other cliché of opposites attracting—they'd driven one another crazy competing with one another at work and crossed the line that took their frustration and converted it into sexual attraction.

After outlining the beginning of his relationship with Patterson, Booth paused for reasons that had nothing to do with his typical aversion to discussing sexual matters. The silence was ominous as both Booth and Brennan considered the dangerous parallels between his earlier failed relationship and the one they themselves had considered but had not yet explored. Opposites described them perfectly. While the level of hostility between the partners had always been lower, the intensity of the way they pushed one another to excel had not.

Needing to stop thinking about how much he still ached to try a relationship even if it meant failing to work though it successfully with his current partner, Booth then explained that FBI training had been grueling and finding any release had been everyone's goal. He and Fallon had been well suited and young and extremely attracted to one another. Without his usual penchant for beating around the bush about sexual matters, Booth explained that they'd had drinks one night at a local bar the second week of training and fallen into bed a few hours later. They'd found that they had been compatible and had a fairly solid relationship-dating through the remainder of their extended specialized training time at the Academy—nearly six incredibly intense months.

When asked by Bones what had attracted him to Patterson, he'd told her that Patterson had been beautiful, smart as hell, and confident in both her skills as a potential agent and in her ability to seduce him. He'd also readily admitted that he'd been a willing target. Years in the military without a regular girlfriend had left him eager for a relationship—even one that had been volatile. He sighed and told Bones that they'd just been too young—too jealous, too insecure, and too reckless with one another's feelings. The man who'd grown could very easily recognize his earlier failings. Booth readily admitted that Fallon had pushed him to work harder and smarter and to be a better agent. He also confessed that he'd been young enough at the time not to make sure that becoming better at those things hadn't come at the cost of his being a better man.

Although he explained that he believed she had actually loved him, he had learned the hard way that Fallon's ambitions had taken priority over everything else in her life—even a relationship with someone who cared deeply for her. Throughout their training, the pair had volleyed to see who'd end up top of the class. It was a dangerously close competition because both of them were well suited to the work for which they were being trained. Patterson's impressive resume was crowned with an Ivy League education, and she had been trained in reconnaissance. Booth had been more street-wise and fresh from his military experience, had great instincts, and had proven to be a natural leader. Together in drills or in investigating cases they had been virtually unstoppable, but when competing, they were each other's worst enemy. Given the circumstances, they should have become an FBI power couple and moved up the ranks quickly together. As it turned out, they had parted ways and followed entirely different paths through the agency. They'd been seriously involved by the end of their training, but she hadn't been able to handle Booth's success even though he'd been mostly supportive of hers.

Booth told Bones in his typically humble fashion that he had ended up first in their class, and Fallon had accused him of sabotaging her during an exercise in order to earn that distinction. Determined not to paint a rosier picture of himself than he felt he deserved, Booth confessed to his partner that Fallon had good reasons for suspecting that he'd sabotaged her. He hadn't offered Fallon help that would have given her the edge during their final testing. At the time, he had seen his withholding of the information as not showing her undue favoritism, but she had mistaken the gesture for sabotage. Booth confided to his partner that he had questioned his motives at the time and that he'd realized that he probably had taken advantage to ensure he remained tops of his class.

Not surprisingly, he'd been hungry to prove that a working class grunt like him could compete with better educated people who'd had more advantages than he had. Even though he'd made his decision without malice and hadn't intended to hurt her, he realized even at the time that it had been a grey area. He'd understood why his motives had been questioned. Fallon had expected him to make the noble gesture to help her excel. He admitted that a better man would have done so.

As he spoke of his memories of that dark time, his partner nodded at him. Brennan certainly understood why Patterson had expected Booth to sacrifice his success for someone else's. He seemed hardwired for things like that still. However, the fact that he was willing to confess his questions about his own ethics in this matter made Brennan even more impressed with his honorability.

After polishing off the rest of his beer, Booth retrieved another and continued relaying his early history with the bureau. He explained that Fallon had been so angry with his perceived deception that she had left him the day after graduation from the academy. Although they'd both requested to serve in the Washington Field office, she'd asked for a transfer to Denver without discussing it with him. She'd then left immediately-but not before she made sure to tell telling every female agent she could find that she had fallen for Booth and he wouldn't commit. She'd also spread the word that he'd cheated on her throughout their relationship. Even though nothing Patterson had gossiped had been true, her smear campaign had pretty much limited his options of finding a co-worker to date for years after that to a very small number of women—most of whom he'd had no interest in pursuing.

Three months later, Fallon had married his best friend from Quantico and sent Booth an announcement about—not an invitation to-the wedding. As hard as it would have been, Booth confided that he'd have gone to the wedding and wished them well. After pausing again to collect himself, Booth confessed that he still missed Pete. He'd thought they'd be lifelong friends—the kind of friends that wouldn't allow a girl to come between them. It had hurt to realize that he'd been entirely wrong about Pete's allegiance. His best friend from FBI training had cut all ties from that point on.

Booth explained that he hadn't seen either of them in years and that he'd heard that she and Pete had long since parted ways, but he knew that Fallon had to be enjoying watching him during this crisis. All these years later, Booth knew that she was still bitter toward him and that she'd love nothing more than to take him down.

"Do you think she still has feelings for you?" Brennan finally found the courage to ask him. For the first time that night, Booth laughed and said that he was fairly certain that the woman still hated his guts.

Brennan didn't believe he was being completely honest with her, but she didn't dare ask him if he still had unresolved feelings for the woman. She was afraid that he'd tell her the truth. She knew that she wasn't ready to hear Booth admit his feelings for any other woman—especially not another one who'd broken his heart before. That would hit too close to home.

To distract him from his worries, Brennan agreed to watch the last half of a hockey game with him. After clearing the plates and cleaning up the kitchen after the game ended, she retrieved her jacket and headed for the door. She felt Booth following closely behind her. Before opening the door, she turned and spoke quietly to him, "Rest well, Booth. Don't forget that I am on your corner."

"**In** my corner, Bones," he stopped short of explaining that "on the corner" would refer to prostitution for fear that the explanation would draw awkward questions from his partner and lead him to linger on thoughts of the inappropriateness of thinking of his partner even momentarily in that context, "But thanks for the encouragement... I'm glad you're on my side."

Unnerved by the gratitude she saw in his expression, Brennan left abruptly—her heart unexpectedly full of emotion and even more respect for her partner. It was also full to brimming with a rage against those at the bureau who were responsible for questioning her partner.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After hearing Booth's honest retelling of his past with Patterson, Brennan had been even more outraged that they'd assigned Patterson to shadow Booth. Without discussing either course of action with her partner, she'd stormed into Sweets' office early the next morning and yelled at him for not intervening to stop it and then returned angrily to her office and sent an e-mail to Hacker that let him know that he'd better hope that he never saw her again-in any capacity.

Despite the satisfaction she'd felt trying to defend her partner to his boss and their therapist, Brennan's relief had been fleeting. Booth had called her mid-morning to warn her that he was coming over to the lab in the afternoon. He'd spoken to her matter-of-factly and with his typical flair for amusing ordinary conversation, but she had been able to tell that the primary reason for his call had been to alert her to the fact that he would be bringing Patterson along with him to the laboratory. Aching for him but determined to help, Brennan had reassured Booth that she would be ready to work "with him, her partner" as soon as he arrived.

Booth hung up the phone and made himself make eye contact with the woman now standing provocatively in the doorway to his office. The smirk on her face sent his temper flaring. He glared at her intensely enough to dismiss her, yet she stood there seemingly unaffected by his temper.

Booth trained his eyes on the file opened on his desktop. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of holding his attention for any length of time. _Who the hell did she think she was showing up at his office unannounced?_ He sure as hell wasn't going to jump just because she'd walked up. It was as if she'd had his phone bugged and wanted to gloat that he was caving and allowing her to shadow him. He was doing his job, dammit! He'd already planned to take her with him to the lab. He didn't need her standing there as if he reported to her—he'd leave the bureau before he'd allow that to happen.

"The years have been kind to you, Seeley," Fallon intoned in a way that stirred ancient yet vivid memories of steamy suggestions followed by the rapid discarding of clothing.

Booth glanced up at her momentarily without showing any emotion and then feigned interest in his paperwork. He felt her appraising him and tried to ignore the way she was leering at him as if he were a hot new item on the menu at a restaurant.

Undeterred by his brushoff, Patterson continued, "You've got that young Sean Connery thing going for you. It's obvious even with the suit that you're still rock-solid and in terrific shape. But time and maturity have sharpened you around the edges and given you an air of mastery and control and confidence that only increase your appeal—they don't tone it down a bit."

Not condescending to fall into the unprofessional conversation she seemed determined to start, Booth confronted her head-on, "I'm immune to the faux flattery, Patterson. Shouldn't have fallen for it years ago. Won't make that mistake again. Relax. You get your side show. I know you'll enjoy every minute of it. But don't get comfortable. I've agreed to work with you until I can convince the powers that be that you should haul your ass onto the next flight back to Philadelphia. Don't mistake my following orders for more than that. You are a necessary evil on a very temporary basis. I will call you when I have field work. Until then, get the hell out of my office. And close the door on your way out."

"I've missed you, too, baby," Patterson cooed familiarly before turning and closing the door behind her. Booth cursed and paused just short of throwing a paperweight across the room-only because he was determined not to give her the satisfaction of knowing that she'd rattled him.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Later, convinced he'd calmed back down after the unwelcome intrusion of his former lover, Booth wandered down to the break room in search of coffee and something to eat. He'd had no appetite earlier after the encounter with Patterson. As he was perusing the lousy selection in the snack machine, Booth stiffened. Two agents who'd always resented Booth's success and his skill were talking all too openly with the intention of making sure that he overheard them. They were talking about the sparks flying out of Booth's office earlier and goading him indirectly about being a "kept" man now that Patterson was on his watch. Booth had strode over to their table and glared both of them into silence. He'd almost taken a swing at Dillard when he'd smirked at him, but had somehow managed to walk away.

The office gossip was further enflamed by the fact that Patterson showed up in his office uninvited again later. She and Booth started bickering loudly and drew the attention of all who were near. Hoping to evade her, Booth stormed out of his office and down the hallway with Patterson right on his heels. Without warning, Booth whirled and called her a blood-sucking parasite and directly—and very loudly-accused her of sleeping with upper management to get her current assignment.

After his outburst, the hallway had fallen completely silent. They'd never seen Booth be anything but the perfect gentleman in dealing with women, and he hardly ever lost his cool, so watching both things happen got everyone's complete attention. Cheeks reddening, Fallon considered slapping him but was determined not to give him a credible reason for having her kicked off the case. Instead, she accused him of purposefully sticking to mundane paperwork in an attempt to drive her away out of boredom and insisted that she was not going to allow him to get rid of her until she was able to observe him and determine if she could approve his fitness for fieldwork.

Booth's temper raged at her insinuation that she had any control over him and his career, and, as they had so many years before, the pair ended up nose-to-nose and arguing loudly. Hardly remembering where he was or what he'd yelled at her, Booth stormed off in the opposite direction only to cringe as he felt her trying to keep pace. Smirking angrily, he whirled on her and yelled at her that she was not allowed to follow him into the men's room and announced that he was seriously considering moving his desk in there. He reeled and entered the restroom, leaving a mortified Patterson struggling to appear unaffected by his anger and frustration. Hearing the loud smack of his fist against the bathroom stall made her jump. She'd clearly been mistaken in assuming that Seeley might have mellowed, and it was now obvious that she'd completely overestimated the patience he'd show with her in front of their peers.


	5. Chapter 5

_**[A/N: Major progress today in ideas for how to fix what needs fixing about the rest of this story. Made me LOL when I realized the source of my writer's blockade. I'd tell you about that, but you would not be amused. Trust me.**_

_**Anyway, I know this is creeping along. Hope to remedy that once I work through the blockade problem. Until then, this chapter is frighteningly short by my standards, but it was fun to write. Hope you enjoy it!]**_

Chapter 5: The Anger in the Anthropologist

Booth had almost been impressed to find Patterson still standing post when he exited the men's room. She'd stood there and refused to leave despite the crowd that had assembled to watch her interaction with Booth. He knew that it had taken courage for her to stand there and risk his complete fury in front of an audience.

Smiling internally and for show to the crowd around them, Booth prided himself on the fact that he emerged from the restroom composed and back in control of his temper. He enjoyed seeing Fallon braced and ready for more yelling from him. "You know what, Fallon? I think it's high time you met my partner," Booth cajoled as he walked down the hallway to grab his jacket and close up his office. He could barely contain himself when he heard his co-workers snigger as they watched the agent follow after Booth eagerly. He knew that most of the men were imagining the confrontation awaiting Patterson and that most of them would have paid dearly for front row tickets to that cat fight. His own mind not as much in the gutter as theirs, Booth knew that Patterson deserved the beating down his partner would certainly deliver, and he was going to enjoy every single minute of it.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Determined not to be more friendly than necessary, Booth had not offered to drive Patterson to the lab. He'd amused himself watching her scramble to find her rental car and follow him from the Hoover Building to the lab. He'd also barely allowed her to keep up with him as he entered the building. He'd nodded to security with more authority than was necessary as they consulted him after reviewing Patterson's badge-he relished the control he had over her entry to the building.

Upon their entry to the actual laboratory, Booth purposefully swiped his card and leapt up the steps quickly, leaving Patterson to follow behind with no way of securing access to the platform. When the alarm sounded as she moved onto the steps, he grinned as he watched his partner turn to glare at their unwelcomed visitor. "Agent Patterson, remove yourself from this platform immediately or I will have security do so," Brennan clipped before turning her gaze to the remains on the table.

Spluttering but finding no welcome in the eyes of the team glaring at her, Patterson descended the steps and stood glaring at her former lover. She tried to ignore the hostile stares of people she would later learn were named Hodgins, Angela, Wendell, and Cam as they watched her in her exile.

"What do you have for me, Bones?" Booth asked eagerly, searching his partner's stance and then her face hopefully for an indication that she'd found something.

"Let's discuss this in my office," Brennan said, whirling and walking down the stairs and over to her office with Booth right on her heels. When Patterson tried to follow the partners inside, Brennan held up a hand to halt her progress. "Agent Booth can brief you on the pertinent facts later. You are not welcome in my workspace," Temperance declared before pressing the door to close it.

"Excuse me, Dr. Brennan. The Director has assigned me to observe Agent Booth in his field work. I must be granted access to your meetings with him."

"As an internationally-acclaimed forensic anthropologist, I am uniquely qualified to understand your current needs," Brennan replied in an unusually friendly manner. Opening the door slightly and positioning her body so as to limit access to the room, she turned and looked at her partner. "Booth, please sit down on the sofa."

"Sure thing, Bones," he said, his smile expanding as he did so. He could tell from the set of his partner's jaw that Patterson was about to be cut down several notches.

"Thank you. Please open that folder on the right of the table," she requested. Booth leaned forward, picked up the folder, and waved it to them in a completely snide salute before opening it on his lap.

"Ask me a question," Brennan insisted. It was all Booth could do to keep from collapsing in a fit of laughter as he glimpsed the look of sheer frustration dawn on Fallon's face.

"Where should we eat tonight, Bones—Sid's or the diner?" Booth asked, winking at his partner in approval of her tactics.

"We'll decide that after we review my findings, Booth." Turning to Patterson, Brennan's expression became completely condescending. "You have observed my partner sitting on the sofa, opening a file, and asking and responding to questions. That, Agent Patterson, is an anthropologically significant observation. You've seen the extent of the field work Booth will be doing with me—his partner—in my office this afternoon. I'm certain that you'll want to report on Booth's complete mastery of the required skills to the Director immediately. However, if you prefer to wait, I suggest that you ask for directions to our cafeteria so that you can procure a beverage and find a comfortable place to sit. Booth and I work long hours and have serious work to do on this case."

Brennan moved to close the door and was not surprised when Patterson prevented her from doing so.

"Look, Bones...," Patterson began and instantly realized when the woman before her glared at her angrily that she'd made a tactical error in using the nickname reserved for Booth alone, "Temperance..."

Patterson's backup plan had not been more successful that the first attempt at connecting with the stubborn woman trying to shut her out. "Unless you want me to report **you** to the FBI Director, I must insist that you address me as Dr. Brennan."

"Fine," Patterson grunted, "I have no intention of sitting out here while you work with Booth, **Dr. Brennan**. We all have jobs to do, and mine is observing your partner. So, unless you want **me** to report **him—and you**—for insubordination, I suggest that you allow me in to do my job."

"If you are unable to perform your duties, Agent Patterson, that is terribly unfortunate for you. However, this is my private workspace, and I am not required to allow you to enter it. I will have to consider any action on your part to gain entry as an attack on my person. I can assure you that my martial arts' training exceeds that provided by the bureau. Booth can attest that I am rather skilled in hand-to-hand combat. I will act to defend myself if you do not leave this office at once."

"This is ridiculous!" Patterson raged.

For the first time since they'd arrived, Brennan loosed her tight control on her own temper. She was seething and decided to let Patterson glimpse her own considerable anger, "What's ridiculous is the fact that you were given this ludicrous assignment. You know that Booth is an excellent agent, and you and I both know that you will report as much to your superiors. Stop wasting our time with grandstanding and interruptions. We have a murderer to catch, and we will inform you when our work requires that we venture into actual fieldwork."

With that, Temperance slammed the door, locked it, and crossed the room to bump knuckles with her temporarily jubilant partner.

With great difficulty, she suppressed the emotion that his unadulterated smile aroused within her. Focusing on working with him and doing what she could to help him through this difficulty, she began telling him what she'd discovered.

_**[A/N: More on the case in the next chapter. I haven't forgotten that there's a serial killer on the loose.]**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**[A/N: I remain floored by your generous reviews and hopelessly behind on responses to them individually. Since I'm not pulling off those individual replies, please know that each and every review makes me smile or laugh or think or blush. I treasure each and every one. Same goes for alerts. You are wonderful readers!**_

_**Hope reading so much of Fallon's POV here won't be too painful. Her perspective was helpful in this part of the story. There's also a bit more about the criminal mind at work in the cases. Let me know what you think!]**_

Chapter 6: The Clue to the Killer

Booth had found some consolation in the fact that Patterson had eventually stopped following him to the lab. A few brief encounters with Bones and the other squints had further convinced her that her presence there was unwelcome and a waste of her time. Given her retreat from that venue, Booth had taken up a rather permanent residence in Bones' office in order to avoid spending time with Patterson. When she reported him for doing so, Patterson had been supremely annoyed to learn that a young psychologist under contract to the bureau had stepped forward to vehemently defend Booth and his close, effective partnership with Dr. Brennan. These people certainly had Booth's back.

Fallon hated the fact that she envied Booth the loyalty she saw in his comrades. He'd always had a knack for charming everyone around him, and it appeared he was even more adept at doing so now. She was sad to realize that he wasn't extending any of that charm in her direction. Even the agents who had been amused and intrigued by her arrival now seemed reconciled to the fact that her presence was temporary and unnecessary. She'd wanted it to be anything but.

Patterson was surprised to learn that Booth had chosen to veer from traditional casework and to spend so much of his workday surrounded by geeks. She wondered how his ego managed to sustain itself in an environment in which he was clearly the least educated and the most out of his element. He'd have hated working with them when he'd been younger. But it amused her that, on the rare occasion when Booth actually spoke to her as he and his partner had briefed her on their findings, Booth had stepped in first-more than once-to explain complex scientific terms to her. Apparently Seeley had mastered the art of squint-speak to a degree that allowed him to feel comfortable over at the lab. She wanted to believe that was the primary explanation for his nearly constant presence there.

Fallon had also been shocked by the degree to which the "squints" who rallied around him respected and admired him. Angela-the one who'd pretended to befriend her only to tell her off privately in very colorful terms-had gone so far as to warn her against trying to get close to Booth personally. She had explained that he was off limits to her and that she would consider it a personal affront if she hit on him. While Patterson felt more than capable of defending herself against the artist, she had been a bit more than intimidated by the woman's deliberate attempt to keep her away from Booth.

Still, not at all surprised to see a woman bare her claws over Seeley, Fallon had asked Angela how long she and Booth had dated, suspecting that they were no longer "an item." She'd been surprised when Angela had laughed loudly and insisted that she'd have gladly "gone there and done that-on a rather frequent and X-rated basis" had Booth's heart clearly not belonged to another. Fallon had been eager to inquire more about this other woman, but Hodgins had taken that opportunity to show up with a particularly disgusting container of bug-and-slime-covered partial remains that had—as intended-sent her rushing back to the Hoover Building.

A few days later, Patterson had begun to question whether taking this assignment had been the appropriate thing to do. She was bored to tears, falling behind on matters at home and in the office, and she hadn't gotten an inch closer to her former lover than she'd been when she'd arrived and surprised him so unpleasantly. Frustrated but reconciled to completing her assignment, she'd actually decided by mid-morning to take the afternoon off to do some sightseeing to take the edge off her frustration and to distract her from the fact that she was spending hardly any time with Seeley.

Before she mentioned the time off to the Director, Booth had barged into her workspace and barked at her quickly. Apparently, they were headed out into the field, and she'd finally have the opportunity to do her job. He'd divulged that a body had been found. She'd been told to "chop chop" or be left behind. Leaping up quickly, she'd grabbed her jacket and notebook and followed a loping Booth to the elevator. She hadn't even considered asking to tag along this time. Not willing to face the brush off she fully expected from him, she'd sprung off the elevator and headed directly for her rental car, pulling out ahead of Booth and driving toward the Jeffersonian parking garage. She'd waited expectantly while he'd entered the building to meet his partner.

Aside from the glare Brennan had shot in her direction upon exiting the building, Patterson felt that her presence had hardly been noticed. But that didn't mean that she wasn't observing most distressing things about Seeley and his partner. Patterson had not moved up to the ranks of second in command of the Philadelphia FBI field office by being naïve or less than observant. It took mere seconds for her to discern the actual object of Booth's affection. Until that moment, she'd had little chance to view Booth interacting with his partner. Now that the opportunity was upon her, she was keenly observant of the way that he walked near to Dr. Brennan with his hand firmly upon the woman's lower back. He'd given the woman the independence she'd demanded, but that hadn't stopped him from opening doors or from hefting the heavy bag into the back of the SUV for his partner. Ever chivalrous, Booth had shown all the signs of a man intent upon "care"-taking for this woman—whether she kneed him in the groin for it or not.

Ignoring the knot of jealousy that Booth's attentiveness to his partner stirred within her, Patterson had eased the car onto the street and out onto the highway to follow Booth and his "partner" to their crime scene. Now that she could ascribe her ill-treatment by Dr. Brennan to utter protectiveness and jealousy of a lover, Patterson consoled herself with the fact that she'd never really stood a chance. She puzzled a bit over the odd pairing of her former lover with a woman who was not blonde or tan. But eventually she considered that he'd always been attracted to women of strength, intelligence, and power, so that variable was the one she used to explain his unexpected attraction to the anthropologist.

Still, she knew that Booth followed the rules, and she knew that he wasn't dating his partner surreptitiously. Hell, he'd been the one determined that they report their own affair to the bureau back during their training. He wouldn't jeopardize his career—or Brennan's—by having an affair undercover. So why wasn't their personal "partnership" in his file? And why did he keep his distance from the infuriating woman? It was obvious the two were very close—why the utter professionalism? It didn't make any sense. She remembered all too well the way that Seeley had always maintained close physical contact with her when they'd been dating. Everywhere except at work, he had been figuratively attached to her at the hip. But now, he didn't hold Brennan's hand or lean over for a kiss while driving. He did look over at his partner often, but there were no overt displays of affection. Perhaps he'd asked Brennan to cool things off for her sake while she was there. No… she doubted she warranted that much concern from him.

As much as this newfound knowledge gnawed at her, Fallon consoled herself with the fact that he wasn't yet married. She might stand a chance at reconciling with him after all. Brennan seemed a complete cold fish, and she recalled all too clearly that Seeley Booth was anything but. She knew that she could rekindle the spark that had flared so brightly between them if given the slightest chance. Just thinking of that spark made her body warm and tingly. Seeley had been an amazing lover—the best she'd ever known. Every inch of her remembered the expertise with which he'd driven her out of her mind.

She'd been so caught up in reminiscing about the way he'd made love to her that she nearly rear-ended his SUV when he slowed abruptly for a turn he purposefully hadn't signaled. Cursing her vivid memory and the man responsible for her distraction, Patterson turned her rental car onto the gravel road and prepared to interact with her former lover and his current "partner." Yeah, she'd been completely bored if she had actually been looking forward to this excursion.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Hours later, the trio remained at the crime scene. Technicians and agents continued to search the perimeter of the ramshackle building for evidence related to the case. After hearing Brennan verbally assault the people who'd dared to draw near to the body, Patterson had opted to stand just inside the doorway of the building. She moved over to one side and leaned back against the wall, quietly observing the anthropologist as she examined the remains and barked orders at technicians. She also watched as Booth alternated between working with his partner and moving among the law enforcement officials to gather information about the scene, to develop plans to relocate the remains to the Jeffersonian, and to discuss items being catalogued as potential evidence from the surrounding area.

While Booth seemed to have found reserves of patience she could not fathom, Patterson found the tediously slow progress made by Brennan to be unnecessary. She considered that they could have moved back to the lab hours earlier. She couldn't discern any measurable progress the examination had made in the last two and a half hours. She knew better than to voice this opinion, but she hoped that the team would arrive at the same conclusion shortly so that they could get out of this God-forsaken dump and back to civilization.

When Brennan finally consented to the removal of the remains, she stayed close enough to actually impede the progress the technicians made in moving the body. While Patterson thought that Booth should have asked his partner to back off and get out of the way, he showed no signs of interfering with his partner's oversight of the activity. Making a mental note to ask him about whether he ever stood up to his partner, she watched as the crew worked slowly and painstakingly to follow Brennan's orders about moving and transporting the remains.

Just when Patterson had breathed a sigh of relief that they might actually make it back to headquarters some time that day, she heard an angry outburst from Brennan. The woman was ripping some agent a new one, yelling at him as if he were a complete idiot. Booth sprang into action and talked his partner down while not even pretending to defend the agent against her verbal assault. Patterson found it interesting that none of the FBI staff on the team were at all surprised to find Booth clearly in his partner's corner. Even the agent being grilled apologized profusely and sought understanding from Booth as he listened to the anthropologist catalogue his failures. Fallon puzzled over the way in which her former lover deferred to his partner in all matters—even those pertaining to his job, but she didn't have time to dwell on that idiosyncrasy. Apparently the agent had dislodged one of the ribs and caused something to fall from the remains. Patterson couldn't imagine why they wouldn't be able to reposition the item back at the lab, but it was obvious that Brennan wasn't satisfied with that option.

Unable to stop her own curiosity, Fallon walked closer to the area where the dispute was taking place. As she came upon them, she noticed that Brennan had knelt to study the object that had fallen out when they'd moved the body. Upon seeing what she was studying, Patterson knelt and pulled on a glove so that she could reach for the object. Immediately, Booth put out an arm to block her from doing so.

"Booth," Brennan whispered, looking up at him with concern. Although Patterson could tell he was concerned when he noticed what had upset his partner, she watched as he reassured his partner with a simple glance and wordless encouragement.

"We should look inside to find out what message the killer is trying to send," Patterson insisted, her own terror at seeing Booth's name on the top of the box urging her to rush ahead and find out what was inside.

Brennan would not allow her to act, "You are here only as an observer. I will not allow you to endanger the people here or this evidence. If you tamper with this evidence, I will see that you are censured and removed from any further work on this case," Brennan snapped as a cowed Patterson slowly withdrew her arm.

"Everyone outside now—get at least 50 feet away. Let's have the bomb techs examine all parts of the remains to make sure that nothing's rigged," Booth barked at the team. "Make sure there are no explosives or other dangers to the team."

They all backed up and left the building to allow the experts to examine the package left under the body. Upon making his own exit, Booth had steered Bones as far away from Patterson as possible, but the women continued their angry stalemate in silent stares across grounds.

About ten minutes later, a man emerged from the shack and walked straight to report to Booth, "Body's clear. It's just a box in a vise. We can't see evidence of anything harmful inside. It's safe to transport it back to the lab. However, I suggest that we place it in a bomb-proof box just to be safe," the lead analyst suggested.

"Let's pack this up and move it back to the Jeffersonian with the remains," Brennan said loudly. Booth nodded his assent, and the team immediately began moving to isolate the box in the vise and to move it to the truck where the body was now lying ready for transport.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Half an hour after the body and the box had been placed on tables at the lab, an impatient Patterson was seething. Although Booth wouldn't have stopped her, Patterson probably should have approached him about her concerns first.

"Your work is entirely too slow and painstaking. We need to see what is in that box. The FBI cannot wait to determine whether the life of an agent has been threatened just because you have ridiculously strict protocols and do not work well with others!" Fallon finally snapped after Brennan's latest warning that she stay away from the platform.

"My work is painstaking because it is accurate and thorough. We cannot open the box because Hodgins has not completed his examination of the particulates found on it and in the adhesive around its top. Your irrational attempt to destroy potentially valuable evidence in a rush to find what will certainly be a piece of paper or some other inane physical object is inappropriate and unprofessional. Stand down from my platform, Agent Patterson, or I will forcibly remove you myself!" Brennan snapped back.

"Booth may allow you to commandeer his cases, but I have a duty to intervene to protect him…," Patterson began only to be rushed by an extremely angry Brennan.

Booth raced down the steps and wedged himself between the two angry women, nervous that he wouldn't be strong enough to stop the confrontation that had been brewing since Patterson's arrival. He read all too clearly the retort Bones was prepared to make about how she was his partner and that she would protect him. Warmed from the inside out just knowing that she'd be that territorial about protecting him, Booth focused on soothing her—knowing that she'd be the one least likely to back down from this overdue argument.

Fortunately, Booth had spun around when he ran between the women and was facing his partner. He had to grasp her upper arms to hold her back from her attack on Patterson. He hoped the physical gesture of turning his back on Fallon would help diffuse some of Bones' anger. Bones was furious—he'd rarely seen her get this angry. He knew that anyone insinuating that she was doing anything less than everything in her power to protect her partner would set her metaphorical hair on fire because that's exactly the way such an accusation would have affected him. Booth worked hard to talk to Bones and get her to listen to him so that he could calm her down. She begrudgingly backed down in the face of his reassurances and the rational arguments he made for controlling her temper.

Then, without even glancing at his former lover, Booth demanded that they all call a truce and figure out how to co-exist. He knew that the truce would be unstable at best, but all parties eventually conceded in favor of professionalism and out of respect for and concern about him.

As a show of her willingness to work with Brennan for Booth's sake, Patterson stepped back and asked that the anthropologist allow the FBI access to the contents of the box as soon as the forensic analysis was complete. Through gritted teeth, Brennan agreed to cooperate, and she glanced at Booth as if the let him know that she was only being cooperative for him.

Nearly half an hour later, Brennan even condescended to allow Patterson to stand on the platform as they carefully removed the box from the vise that had held it underneath the victim's body. Brennan had been frustrated by the need to focus exclusively on analyzing the box instead of working with the remains, but she had clear priorities where her partner was concerned—his safety was paramount.

After extreme measures to ensure that it was safe to open the box without destroying any further trace evidence, Brennan insisted that she be the one to open it. The room fell quiet as she slowly removed the lid from the cardboard box. Her normally steady hands felt shaky uncovering additional evidence that might bring pain or strain to her partner. As she'd anticipated, the box contained one folded sheet of notebook paper. Touching the paper as minimally as possible, she lifted the top flap just enough so that they could read it. The Taker—for surely only The Taker would have left such a message in a vise just like he or she had left the heart of the previous victim in a vise near each victim's body—had cut out letters from newspapers and magazines to form the crude message.

"If you had found him in time, none of this would be happening. He hurt me, and it's high time you paid for that, Agent Booth."


	7. Chapter 7

_**[A/N: I am LOVING the angst of Bones S6. Hope reading not so fluffy stuff here won't make enduring current events tougher on you guys. I do so very much appreciate your reading and reviewing!]**_

Chapter 7: The Fear in the Father

"_If you had found him in time, none of this would be happening. He hurt me, and it's high time you paid for that, Agent Booth."_

All eyes shifted to Booth as the message was read. Temperance watched him closely, concerned by the lack of movement or speaking on his part. Booth was never still or quiet. The fact that he was now both was terrifying. Booth stared at the page as if he might obliterate it with his vision alone. Temperance shivered remembering how guilty she'd felt during the copycat murders staged to follow the cases in one of her books. Booth's guilt complex and sense of responsibility were abnormally intense, and bearing the weight of the five murders already committed plus future ones the killer was planning would be extremely difficult for him.

Patterson had placed a hand at Booth's elbow and was attempting to pull him aside to pick his brain about the message and what it might mean. Hodgins had already begun swabbing the paper for particulates and gleaning information from it so that he could hand it over to the bureau for further analysis by the team waiting at the base of the platform.

Booth stood eerily still—lost in thought and seemingly oblivious to the activity and concern of those around him. Knowing that he did not want to have to face such worrisome news with an audience, Brennan grasped his other elbow and announced to the room at large that she and Booth were going to discuss this latest evidence in the privacy of her office. She nudged him none too gently away from Patterson and then led him down the stairs and into the relative privacy of her office, pausing only to glare at Patterson to indicate that she was not invited to follow them.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

As soon as he'd crossed the threshold to her office, Booth pulled out his phone and dialed a number, pacing impatiently until there had been an answer. Brennan had listened as he spoke to a man and asked to speak to Parker.

"Hey, Bub. I know you're gonna have a great game. Just remember all the things we practiced and what Coach told you, okay?" He had paused, obviously listening to something Parker had said.

"That's great, Parks. Listen, you remember our password, right, buddy?" Booth had nodded when Parker assured him that he did. "That's great, pal. Yeah, don't say it to anyone—not even to Coach. Listen, I'm going to send two agents out to get you after your game and then to pick up your mom. It might not be people you know."

Brennan watched as a flash of pure agony crossed her partner's face as he lied to his son. "No. No, nothing's wrong. Just like a test for safety like a fire drill, okay?" Booth paused, relieved slightly that Parker seemed to be buying his story. "Listen, Parker, I need you to be really smart about this. The bureau needs to know that you'll follow the rules and stay safe. I'm not telling the agents our special password because only you and Bones and me know about that one, and I like to keep it super secret. Today, the agents coming to pick you up will have a new password."

"Max was Christopher Columbus… Can you remember that, bub? Good... That's great. Hey, if it's not two guys with badges who know today's code words, don't go with them. Tell Coach if they don't know the code. He has numbers to call. He'll take care of it, okay?"

"Hey, Parker, I love you. I'll see you soon, okay?" Booth sighed as he hung up the phone and prepared to make another call.

"Hey, Bones. Do me a favor. Go tell Patterson that I'm taking care of Parker. I know she's calling Hacker and other people at the bureau to put Jared and Pops and people on notice and to assign them security. But tell her I've got Parker covered, okay?"

Brennan nodded and rose quickly to leave the room. When she returned, she heard Booth going over the instructions for the third time with the agents. He'd called people he trusted and sent them personally. Still, he was taking extreme caution in confirming that they'd leave immediately to pick Parker up. "If it's safe, let him finish his game, Hudson. Then bring him in. Hacker will tell you where to take him. Thanks, man."

"Patterson has alerted the bureau and discussed the situation with Andrew. They're setting up plans to move people to safehouses, Booth. They aren't taking any chances." Not quite relieved, Booth nodded before turning around and falling hard onto the sofa. Temperance walked around behind the sofa and sat down more gently beside him. Neither of them spoke. But he was grateful for her support.

After sitting for a long while on the sofa with his head in his hands, Booth stood and began pacing the width of Bones' office. Brennan sat and watched him think. Her concern for him was almost smothering—for her. Booth was so caught up in his own disturbance that she doubted he even noticed how much she ached to help him. She was overcome with the need to calm him, help him, protect him. She hated seeing him this overwrought with guilt—especially when none of this was his fault. She knew that telling him that wouldn't matter. Booth took responsibility—it was just something he did naturally. There was no way that he wouldn't feel responsible for each of the deaths so far and for any others that might happen because of this killer.

Temperance sat stewing in her own hatred for the perpetrator of these crimes. Whoever had done this was mentally ill or absolutely without conscience. The fact that this killer was knowingly taunting Booth this way was horrifying.

She knew that Booth needed time to wrestle with this development, so she tried to catalogue evidence while she waited impatiently for her partner to start talking to her. The only conclusion she could reach based on this note left for Booth was that The Taker (as he had come to be known by the team because he or she seemed to "take" victims without warning and disappear to kill them) was related somehow to a former case of Booth's. Brennan started calculating the number of cases they had in a year in an attempt to estimate how many potential cases they might have to review to look for evidence. Booth worked other cases without her and he had worked many before they became partners. She postulated that there could be hundreds of cases for them to sort through.

She'd long since accepted Booth's theory that this string of brutal murders had been perpetrated by a serial killer. She still hadn't been convinced that there hadn't been a team of collaborators working on this, but the more cases they found with strange similarities, the more she accepted the theory that this was all the work of one demented individual. The note just left for Booth was further evidence that at least this murder had been an act of vengeance by a lone individual.

There had been at least five murders linked to this case so far in just a few short weeks. The first victim had been found dead with his heart crudely carved out and missing from the badly damaged remains. Karl Godfrey's heart had later been found linked by a vise to the body of the next victim, a female who had not yet been identified. That young woman's heart had also been removed from her body and had later been found in a vise connected to the femur within the remains of Khalid Assan. Khalid's heart had been savagely ripped from his body, and he had been decapitated. The first three bodies had been from victims who had been killed years ago. Mr. Assan's skull had been found compressed in a vise attached to the clavicle of Jessica Sung, a six-year-old girl of Mandarin descent. Jessica's heart had been found compressed in an eerily small vise that had been linked through part of the ribcage of a woman they strongly suspected by had not yet confirmed was Carlita Juarez, an 86-year-old grandmother who had emigrated from Mexico 55 years earlier. The last two victims had been killed more recently—within the last few weeks. The latest victim's heart had also been removed violently and had yet to be found. At first, Brennan had suspected that her heart had been in the box they'd just found, but it remained missing.

The team had worked desperately but had been unable to identify a link that might lead them to the killer—aside from hearts (and occasionally other body parts) cut out of their bodies and placed in vises alongside other remains-between the victims. The bodies had been in varying levels of decomposition in different parts of a three-state area. All of them had been located in areas different from the ones in which they'd died. The killer had worked for years and killed people from different places. The first three victims had been young to middle-aged adults. The killer didn't alternate between men and women in any recognizable pattern. The victims were from different parts of the country, and Karl Godfrey had been kidnapped while on vacation from Canada. None of the victims appeared to know one another or to have similar backgrounds or interests. There was no apparent connection to any of the cases aside from the fact that each person's heart had been removed violently and that it had later been found connected with a vise to another victim's body.

As she sat there unable to help her partner, Brennan tried again to find any small hint that might indicate who the killer was and found nothing. She was so caught up in her thoughts that she hadn't realized that Booth had finally stopped pacing. Upon noticing the fact that he was still and facing her, she looked up at him expectantly.

"We've got to pull old case files and look for a link. My gut tells me that this is from a really old case," Booth said as he looked at his partner intently.

"Do you remember something specific? What evidence compels you to think it's an old case?"

He snapped at her in response, barely able to regret his ill temper, "My gut is not your brain, Bones. It's just a feeling. I can't prove it to you. Let's just start with older cases."

"Booth, you must have had hundreds of cases... It's not logical to go back to very old cases without a reason."

"I'd have a feeling about a newer case, all right? Something would nag at me. I'd see some connection. But I'm blank. Nothing at all comes to mind—except my gut's sense that it's an older case."

Brennan was tempted to argue with him, to push him to find a more rational basis for where there research should begin, but something about the look on his face stopped her from doing so. Booth was so distracted that he didn't even notice how quickly she conceded, "Fine, we'll start with the older case files."

"I'll call and have them pulled," Booth said, pulling out his phone and dialing the bureau's records department.

Brennan listened as Booth made the call to the bureau. She watched him stretch his neck and rub his hand on the back of it as if that might alleviate some of his tension. Overcome with an unbearable sense of foreboding, she watched as he clicked off the call and turned to face her. Suddenly finding himself with nothing productive he could do in that moment, without a course of action or a lead to follow that might distract him from his guilt and frustration and darkness, Booth looked as helpless and forlorn as he was. He simply wasn't able to hide his fears from her. Without saying a word, Brennan rose and crossed the small space to him, wrapping her arms around his torso and relishing the fact that he instantly wrapped his own around her back. He'd told her long ago that he'd ask her to hug him when he was frightened. Although he hadn't asked, his fear in the face of this killer was extreme enough that no request for that badly needed hug had been necessary.

After a long moment, Temperance pulled back to look at him and then leaned up to plant a tender kiss on his cheek. Then, without saying a word or expecting him to do so, she stepped back so that she was beside him and looped her arm through his. "We'll stop by the diner on the way to your office," she suggested, leaving no room for argument. Booth's tense smile reflected his understanding that she was taking care of him in precisely the way he needed—in the way he'd done for her on too many occasions to count.

Her glance up at him briefly confirmed that knowledge, but she looked away quickly. She was just doing what she knew would help her partner. Socially challenged and awkward as she was, Temperance Brennan wanted no thanks or recognition for doing what she had felt compelled to do. Her ache and determination to be and do what Booth needed had taken over. She'd deal with the repercussions of that decision later. For now, she had to get Booth to eat something.

The partners ignored the concern-drenched silence that fell as they emerged from Brennan's office as well as the stares that followed them as they walked arm-in-arm out of Brennan's office, through the lab, and out into the cool, dark night. Even though the sight of the partners linked together physically stirred different thoughts and emotions in each of them, all of those observing the pair had only the best of intentions and felt genuine affection for the FBI agent now pulled into the center of this ordeal and respect for his partner who was determined to hold there in the center of the storm with him.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Cold-bloodedness in the Chaos

As they waited impatiently at the diner for takeout Brennan feared Booth might not eat, Temperance watched Booth scroll through the list of text messages and e-mails that had been pinging endlessly on his phone. The fact that the bureau had implemented the protocols required when an agent was threatened should have consoled both of them, but it hadn't.

Knowing that she was going to anger her partner, Brennan prepared for the outburst her partner would surely emit as she reached over and took his phone away from him.

"Dammit, Temperance!" he growled as he reached for the phone.

Startled by his use of her first name, Brennan realized just how emotionally shaken her partner was. Sadly, she realized that his being so "on edge" made her kidnapping of his phone that much more necessary.

"Finding a serial killer is a marathon, Booth. Not a sprint," she said sympathetically, watching the memory of his telling her those very words on the mall long ago flash back to him, "They're following protocol. You've already sent the team for Parker. We'll be in your office in fifteen minutes. Just try to relax for a few moments."

Booth sighed as he realized the wisdom of her words. He just wasn't able to follow it. "I don't think I can."

"Here...," Brennan said sympathetically, handing him her phone instead. "Look up the hockey scores or find another site that will distract you."

A flash of gratitude graced his face before he shot a tense smile in her direction. He knew that she was right. Hell, he knew that he needed to relax. He just didn't know how. But he appreciated her calm and her support in the middle of everything. So he found his favorite hockey site and spent a few minutes checking scores. Given the situation, the information didn't hold his attention for more than a few moments, but he didn't say anything to Bones about it. Instead, after gazing at her for a long moment, he slipped her phone into his pocket and walked across to the restroom to splash some cold water on his face.

By the time he emerged from the back room looking no better for the break he'd pretended to take, their food was ready. Bones was holding the bag and waiting at the door for him. After checking to make sure the agents following them were in place and that leaving the building would be safe, Brennan nodded and pushed the door opened as he approached, and they made their way back out into a night as dark as the shadow hanging over them.

Booth drove them in the SUV to the Hoover Building in silence. He smiled at Bones when she nudged him with her elbow as the elevator took them to toward his office. Bones was doing all the right things to keep him from coming unglued. He was grateful and decided to play along. He'd eat something and then they'd go through the files. They'd go through all of them if that's what it took. They had to find the scumbag who'd sent that note before someone else died.

Instead of stopping at his office, Booth went straight to the Director's office. He'd known they'd be gathered there discussing the emergency actions being taken since they'd been notified about the letter. Booth paused only long enough to ask Bones to let him do the talking before knocking on the door to the Director's conference room. Brennan watched as her partner put on the mask of his profession and stood a bit taller as he strode confidently into the conference room. He shot a momentary look at Patterson before stepping near the front of the room. Brennan eyed the other agent carefully and was encouraged by the fact that she nodded at her sympathetically and as if to suggest that taking care of Booth was what was important—and what Bones should be the one to do. Brennan supposed that Patterson was as effective at communicating with people as Booth was, because she couldn't believe how many messages that one simple nod had conveyed so clearly.

"Sir, I sent my own team to retrieve my son and his mother. Patterson alerted the bureau and implemented emergency procedures." He glanced at her to confirm that she'd done so. "They've increased security at the lab and at the office. I know that you have to assign someone else to be in charge. I know I can't fight that now that the case involves me, but, sir... I'm going to help on this case. Bones and I... and the rest of the squints... we'll catch this perp and nail him to the wall. I know we haven't found the pattern yet, but we will. We always do. I'm not going to sit by and wait for this psycho to kill someone else, sir."

The director had suspected as much. He'd been expecting Booth to rush in and rant about needing to remain in charge of the case even though it wouldn't be allowed. He had to give the man credit for holding it together despite everything that was going on.

"I have a feeling this is related to one of my very old cases, sir. Bones and I will be in my office going through the files. I'll let you know if we find anything. Thank you, sir, for taking steps to protect my family and friends."

"You're welcome, Booth. Rackley will keep you apprised of the details." Booth was too distracted to even notice that his former nemesis had not actually succeeded in replacing him to lead the case.

"Brian, I want to know everything," Booth said, shooting the agent a glare that dared him to defy him even though he was not technically required to keep the man fully informed.

"Of course," he said instantly, glancing from him to the director as Booth turned and left the room with Bones on his heels.

Brennan wanted to ask Booth more about the protocols that meant he'd be replaced as the agent-in-charge of this case, but she decided that he'd tell her anything that was really important. As he hefted the first of the storage boxes onto his desk and pulled out a stack of files, she searched in the bag for his food and took it over to him quickly. She watched as he waged the internal battle and convinced himself that eating something really would be the wise thing to do.

"Thanks, Bones," he said quietly as they both settled on the floor in front of his desk to eat, the words he spoke clearly thanking her for more than just the plate of food she'd ordered for him.

"Hand me some of those files," she demanded brusquely, refusing to allow him to get sentimental over something as simple as a plate of food. Part of her wondered why it was so "irrational" for Booth to be emotional about a plate of food when she found herself more than a bit choked up just seeing the gratitude on his face. She quickly chastised herself for wasting time considering such notions when they had boxes of case files to review.

The Tenacity in the Tweenager

Across town, Parker Booth had been having the game of his short baseball life. He'd been tapped as the pitcher for only the third time ever, and he had been so excited about showing off the new skills he'd been working with his dad to learn since he'd come home from Afghanistan. Parker had grinned up at his coach at the beginning of the game and told him quite enthusiastically that he was "ready" to pitch.

And he hadn't been exaggerating. So far, he'd held the other team to only four hits and had struck out three batters. It was the top of the fourth inning, and Parker's coach hadn't even mentioned putting anyone else in. This was clearly his game to win, and Parker was determined to lead his team to victory.

As he had begun warming up to start the inning, he had seen a man in a dark suit and glasses walk slowly up to observe the game. Parker looked around for the man's partner and didn't see him. He didn't have much time to look, though, so he returned his attention to the signals his catcher was sending to him.

After the first batter was thrown out at first on a ground ball to the shortstop, Parker noticed that the man had walked over to the dugout and spoken to his coach. His face a mask of neutrality and concentration, Parker began to worry about the fact that only one of the FBI agents had come to pick him up. His nervousness increased when the lone agent nodded at him and tapped his watch impatiently.

Parker was a good kid and had been taught to be respectful of adults. But he was worried about this apparent change of plans. Maybe only one of the agents had been able to come. Maybe the other guy was in the car waiting. _But Dad said two agents._ Parker's mind raced. He had to do something to buy time. His coach hadn't seemed at all unnerved by his conversation with the agent. Parker was afraid that if he pitched his way through the inning that the coach would pull him out and send him away with this man he wasn't sure he should leave with.

Suddenly, Parker got an idea. It would make his teammates angry and might end up sending him away sooner, but he figured he could try. He wasn't allowed to call the coach out onto the field unless he was injured or wanted to stop pitching. There was only one other legitimate way to pull him out onto the field so that Parker could talk to him without arousing suspicion.

Hating that he had to do it but realizing that it was the smartest option, the determined eleven-year-old lobbed a really high pitch toward home plate. Slowly and methodically, he continued throwing balls until he'd walked two batters. He'd made his lapse look credible. To everyone observing, it was as if he'd just lost his ability to throw a strike. What nobody else knew was that Parker's aim was still quite accurate. He was concentrating carefully to miss his target so that he could continue walking players. His coach began looking concerned but continued to cheer Parker on.

By the time that Parker had walked four straight players and effectively scored a run for the opposing team, his coach walked out to the mound looking disappointed in Parker's performance. He put a hand on the young man's shoulder in a show of support even though he knew he'd have to pull the kid out. He'd expected tears or frustration, but Parker showed signs of neither. He looked up at his coach and asked him not to take him out of the game. The coach knelt down to talk to the kid, trying to explain to him that he had to do what was best for the team. Parker leaned in and whispered to him, telling him that his dad had told him to leave with two FBI agents—not one. He also asked if the man had given him the special code. He hadn't.

Parker pled with his coach to have someone call the bureau to confirm whether he should leave with the man, but he encouraged him not to arouse the man's suspicion. To the disapproval of the crowd and to the disappointment of Parker's teammates, the coach left the field making it clear that Parker would continue pitching. Once he was back in the dugout, he asked an assistant coach to make a call to the number he'd been given in case of an emergency.

As the assistant coach dialed the number, a shaken Parker settled down and pitched bravely. He struck out a batter and quieted the complaints of the crowd. But then he walked the next batter and scored another run for the opposing team. Parents started complaining loudly about the need to put in a new pitcher, but Parker pretended not to hear them. Slowly and carefully, he worked his hardest to buy time so that someone could reach the FBI.

When an opposing player reached out and unexpectedly hit a pitch that was way outside, Parker's team pulled off a double play and ended the inning. He glanced up at his coach hoping for an answer and saw him shake his head. They hadn't been able to reach anyone at the bureau who could help them confirm or deny the authenticity of this agent. With every step he took toward the dugout, Parker became increasingly nervous about leaving with the man in the suit. Ignoring the man when he walked over, Parker took his time packing up his gear. He listened as the impatient agent grumbled to the coach that he really had to leave with Parker immediately—for his safety.

Realizing time was running short, Parker tried one last desperate maneuver. He walked out toward the first base coach and stood close to him while speaking loudly enough for the man in the suit to hear him clearly. "Hey Coach. Can you call my dad? I need to ask him for today's password. You have his number. Well, he told me never to leave with anyone unless he'd told me the password." Nodding in understanding, the coach pulled out his cell phone and dialed Booth's cell phone. When it was answered, he asked to speak to Agent Booth.

"Who is this?" Brennan asked as she retrieved Booth's phone from her pocket. As the coach explained what was happening and Brennan confirmed that "only two" men should be allowed to take Parker, the coach clicked off the call and grabbed Parker's arm, running with him out into the outfield and toward the gate at the fence at the edge of the field. While the fake agent had intended to follow them, he'd all too quickly caught sight of the two actual field agents screeching their car into the parking lot and opted to disappear into the crowded park instead.

Brennan slipped the phone back into her pocket and paused for a long moment trying to decide how much to tell Booth about the call. She knew the FBI was tracing all of Booth's calls and that they'd have alerted a team to rush to retrieve Parker immediately. If the Taker were there already, there was no way she and Booth could arrive in time to stop him.

"Booth," she began searching his eyes for a sign that he'd hold himself together in the face of horrible news. Just then Booth's phone buzzed and she pulled it out instantly, reading the text message on the screen.

After gulping hard and swallowing back tears that she knew would only worry him more, Temperance told her partner that Hudson and his partner had collected Parker from his game and that they were en route to pick Rebecca up. Swallowing again, she laid a hand upon his arm and told him that the evidence made it very likely that the Taker had gotten close to Parker. She watched as fear, pain, and sheer rage engulfed her partner simultaneously. Without waiting to hear more from her, Booth stormed out of the office toward the conference room.

The Blood in the Backpack

Booth's expression when he returned to the office was one that told Bones he was not up to talking. She could only imagine the fury he'd unleashed upon the team of agents leading the investigation.

Reading him well and hating the tension she could see in him, Temperance handed him a folder from the stack of case files she'd been reviewing. She paused in her own examination of the file only when she heard her partner sigh for a moment before opening the folder and beginning to scrutinize every detail.

They'd sat there on the floor of Booth's office for about half an hour longer when a clearly shaken Patterson showed up at Booth's door. "Booth, Dr. Brennan, you're needed in the conference room." Brennan searched the woman's face and could only detect her discomfort. She knew that they would not be getting good news, but she had no idea what this meeting foretold.

As they entered the room, everyone turned to look at Booth. For one long, horrible moment, Temperance feared that something had indeed happened to Parker. She watched as her partner made a determined effort to stay quiet and to hold himself together. Instead of taking the chair he'd been offered, he walked up to the table and placed his palms flat on its top. Looking around the room quickly and not deferring to Rackley or to his superiors, Booth demanded an update.

Charlie spoke first, reassuring Booth that Parker was safe and that Rebecca and her fiancée were with him and under heavy guard. Brennan noticed the slight release of tension from her partner's frame, but that respite had been temporary.

"Thank you. What else?" Booth demanded, the clip of his voice leaving no room for secrecy or delay.

Temperance felt a chill run down her spine as Rackley and the other agents informed Booth of the call they'd taken from Camille Saroyan earlier that evening. She'd received a panicked call from her daughter when she'd returned home from school. Michelle was fine, but she'd been terribly upset when she'd arrived home and attempted to start working on her homework. After grabbing a quick snack, Michelle had opened her backpack to pull out her assignments. She'd been surprised to realize that none of her books or belongings had been inside the backpack. Unaware of the potential for danger, she'd fished items out of the bag quickly in an attempt to identify the owner of the backpack she'd obviously picked up in error. Near the bottom of the bag, there'd been a plastic storage bag. It had been heavy, but she'd yanked it out only to be horrified when she realized that it contained a human heart. That heart had been in a vise and had been wrapped in a note warning Booth to back off and that nobody he knows or cares about would be safe until he did.

Brennan took a step closer to Booth but stopped quickly. She could literally see the ripple of tension in his shoulders and back as he digested the significance of this news. She watched as the men and women in the room shot him looks of sympathy and shared outrage. There was a long silence during which the reality of this situation hit Booth and everyone else in that room. They had to cast the net more widely. Booth had very little connection with Michelle other than the occasional meeting with her because of her mother and their friendship and work together. This person or group of people involved in these heinous crimes had really stalked Booth carefully in order to draw Michelle into the circle of people about whom he cared. Protecting the Jeffersonian staff and Parker and Rebecca and Pops wasn't going to be enough.

Booth told the team to "lock down" all of the people related to the people on his list. Brennan suspected that Max and Russ and Jared and Padme would not be happy about being followed by agents, but she resolved to tell them to cooperate for their own safety.

After saying and hearing everything he needed to address in that meeting, Booth turned on his heel and left. Brennan stayed behind for a beat or two, carefully making eye contact with every person in the room and demanding in her own personal way that they do everything in their power to put an end to this nightmare for her partner.

When she arrived at the door to Booth's office, he was reading a file while talking on the phone and reassuring Cam that she and Michelle would be protected even if he had to be the person to do it himself. The weight of the world clearly rested on his shoulders and Brennan felt powerless to do anything about it. She watched, overcome by emotions she didn't want to acknowledge, as the man she adored tried to console a mother distraught about her adopted daughter. Almost feeling as if she were intruding in an intimate moment, Brennan remained silent in the doorway to his office. She watched as Booth completed the call and placed the phone back on its holder.

Instantly, he saw her fatigue and decided that he couldn't carry around guilt for that, too. Brennan watched with a wildly beating, emotion-filled heart as the brave soldier rose and approached her with the clear intention of sending her home so that he could juggle his increasing concerns on his own.


	9. Chapter 9

_**[A/N: Anyone reading anything I write knows that I write only for kicks and that I would never claim to own Bones or its fantastic characters. Even I am relieved to know that's true. TV events are too incredible—I'm only qualified to watch and love.**_

_**Forgive me for forgetting to thank you for your reviews when I posted that last chapter really quickly. It's been a busy week. Please know that I thoroughly enjoyed reading every single review. You really do floor me with your insights and your encouraging words! **_

_**As I've read your comments and seen the parts of this story you've enjoyed most, I've realized all too clearly that some of the coming chapters will frustrate or disappoint you greatly. Just wanted to say now that it's okay to complain or to grumble if you don't like what happens. Even though a few specific future events seem contradictory with this story so far, there's a method to what some of you are likely to label "my madness."**_

_**Buckle up, gentle readers. Things are about to get bumpy. But enjoy this one. I think it will go over pretty well.**_

_**This one's for ceeray3. I love her story "Two Peas in a Bucket." Please go read it and rave along with me.]**_

Chapter 9: The Attraction Between the Associates

It was only 7:15 PM, but the long day was wearing on all of them. "Let's get you home, Bones," Booth said, getting up quickly and making his way around the desk to lead her out of his office.

"Booth...," she began, but he had already grasped her arm and was pulling her out into the hallway.

"Booth. Stop. I'm not leaving you alone here to deal with this. We're partners. If you stay, I'm staying as well."

Sighing and trying to muster the argument he knew he needed to make to her, Booth turned and faced her, struck for what seemed like the hundredth time that day with an overwhelming ache to pull this stubborn woman before him into his arms and never, ever let go. Unable to bear those thoughts when she was looking at him so intently, he simply stared at her—simultaneously in awe of, full of admiration for, and frustrated with the woman before him.

"I'll be right back," she said abruptly, stunned by the intensity in his eyes as he'd stared at her.

Booth's patience was in shreds. He was fairly certain that his partner's current mission was going to dissolve what remained of it. Booth stopped pacing when his partner returned with a box full of files from the conference room.

Reading the unspoken question in his gaze, Brennan informed him that she'd taken a box with copies of Booth's case files and told the team that they could use the originals or make additional copies. "Since my car isn't here, let's just go to your apartment. We can both shower and be more comfortable. Your disc problems will resurface if you continue to sit on the floor of your office," she said, walking past him and toward the elevators. After a moment's pause to reflect on how truly well his partner could read him and care for him, Booth jogged to catch up and lifted the box out of her arms.

"I am perfectly capable of carrying those files. The box is extraordinarily light and easy to transport," Brennan insisted.

"Alpha male here, Bones. Can't fight my own anthropology," he tried to joke. When she shook her head, he chuckled and stepped onto the elevator with her.

The ride to the apartment was quiet. They were both exhausted. The silence was soothing more than awkward or tense. Booth was comforted by Bones' presence, and she was happy to be able to assist him in a time when he sorely needed help and perspective.

Still in a companionable silence, the partners took the box upstairs. Booth placed it onto the coffee table and turned to face his partner. Unbidden, emotion rammed him from out of nowhere. "You've been fantastic today, Bones. I..." His voice trailed off, but she'd have interrupted him anyway.

"We're partners. It's what we do," she said, trying to shrug off his thanks.

"But Bones..."

She tried what she thought would be a safe way to change the subject, "Shouldn't you call Parker? I'm certain that he's concerned for your safety."

"No. It's too late. He's probably asleep already. The agents will bring Becs and Parker by the office tomorrow. I can't go there. If the Taker's following me, I'd lead him right to them."

Brennan understood the logic in his words, but she was unexpectedly having trouble regulating her own breathing. She'd been so determined to take Booth home so that he could relax and take care of his back, but now that they were there alone together, she felt an urge to rush away and leave him alone. She didn't want his thanks. Didn't he understand that helping him was necessary? Rational or not, she felt compelled to help him through this ordeal. She knew that she was doing it selfishly—to meet her own need to be his partner—not to earn gratitude from him.

She knew Booth well enough to realize that thanking her was just something he felt compelled to do. But hearing his earnest appreciation was difficult. It pulled on her metaphorical heart strings and blurred her perspective about helping him. Keeping Booth at arms' length had never been easy, and it was practically impossible now. He was particularly vulnerable, and she was the only person to whom he'd show that weakness.

The burden of being the one person whom he trusted with that information was heavy. Try as she might to pretend it was just because they were partners, her heart told her that wasn't true. She knew that Booth could allow her to see his current inner pain and struggle because of their friendship and their bond. Because he loved her and had shared parts of his heart with her before. By causing him pain, she'd earned the right to witness more of it. Understanding that fully caused a knot to form in her stomach. There was no way to take back the pain she'd inflicted, and she had passed on the right to be the person who could truly help him in his suffering now. They were still in that horrible limbo that had followed his desperate plea with her that they give things between them a try.

Shaking herself out of that miserable reverie, Brennan decided to recommend constructive behavior. "Why don't you take a shower and change into something comfortable? I'll go through some more files."

"I won't be long. Thanks," he said quietly. She watched him walk down the hall and wished that she had the courage to follow him and reassure him that everything would be OK. She longed to pull him into her arms and show him how determined she was to stay by his side. But that wouldn't be fair to Booth. She'd drawn an ever bigger line between them last spring and couldn't try to chip away at it now. Her rational side told her that helping solve the case was the best way to help Booth. Part of her brain accused her of being a coward and using any excuse to avoid talking with Booth about how she felt about him, but she was accustomed to compartmentalizing that part of her brain and keeping those thoughts at bay.

Still, she found that she wasn't able to focus on the files in front of her. Realizing that she was tired and uncomfortable, she rose and stretched. Without considering anything beyond the thought of procuring comfortable clothing into which she could change, Temperance walked down the hallway and stepped into Booth's bedroom. She'd been in this room on rare occasions and walked by it often. But tonight she was struck by the scent of her partner—his own natural scent commingled with the light aroma of his mild aftershave she found similarly appealing-clean and masculine. After pausing for a moment to absorb the aroma of him, she walked across his room to the chest of drawers and opened the top one.

Without rifling too much through Booth's undergarments, she selected a pair of boxers she might use for sleepwear. She closed the drawer quickly and opened the one below it, quickly pulling out a t-shirt she could wear for the night. Satisfied with the clothing items, she turned to leave the room. Just as she walked around the end of Booth's bed, he walked quickly into the room and froze as soon as he saw her standing there.

She drank in the view of him—his body still damp from the steamy shower, his skin a healthy pink from the heat of the water, his hair a spiky mess from his haphazard attempt to towel it dry, his eyes a smoky brown that looked as delectable as chocolate tasted, his facial expression showing surprise and making him look years younger, his muscular abdomen scattered with stray drops of water trailing in different directions and urging her to touch them, his narrow hips draped carelessly with a towel he'd normally have discarded by this point in time upon entering his room. Even Brennan wasn't rational enough to shrug off her intense attraction to him in that moment. But there was far more than a physiological explanation for the way that her heart felt as if it dropped to her stomach as she stood there caught up in longing for him.

Booth cleared his throat to dispel the very awkward silence. "Sorry, Bones. Didn't realize you were in here. Did... did you find something to wear?" Booth asked, swallowing hard and trying to ignore the way that his partner was ogling him.

"Yeah... Yes. Yes, I did," she said as she turned and made a hasty exit from the room.

Thrilled with a momentary distraction from the case and his urgent need to solve it and keep the people he cared about safe, Booth closed his eyes and memorized the look on his partner's face. Bones had been more than checking him out. She'd admitted before that she found him attractive, and he'd seen her check him out from time to time. Still, seeing her there looking at him there like that in his bedroom, he'd seen something different. There'd been a flash of something more intense than just admiring someone's skillfully chiseled abs. He felt relieved to know that he wasn't the only one affected by the appearance of his partner.

While such thoughts naturally renewed the tiny flicker of hope that Bones would feel something more for him, he stopped himself from following that train of thought. Trying not to read too much into his partner's behavior, he smiled and decided to conduct an experiment. Surely Bones couldn't complain about an experiment, could she? Well, hell yes, she could, but that didn't stop him from grinning as he slipped on boxers and sweatpants and tossed the t-shirt he'd eventually put on over his shoulder. If she liked what she saw, then who was he to deprive her of a longer view?

Knowing that he'd likely be on the receiving end of violence from her if he took this too far and actually teased her, Booth made his way down the hall and into the kitchen to grab a beer.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Once in the kitchen in his half-naked glory, Booth had polished off the last of a bag of chips. He'd eaten them standing at the counter. He'd known that Bones wouldn't share them with him, and he hadn't wanted to eat in front of her. She made a regular habit of stealing his fries, but she wouldn't touch chips. Booth could almost recite her speeches about preservatives and salt content from memory. Instead of heeding her warning or feeling guilty for ignoring it, he regularly used his memories of her scolding voice as an amusing soundtrack while he indulged in unhealthy treats. She'd have been furious had she known.

Smiling and turning to hide the evidence of his poor food choice, he tossed the bag into the trash and used a paper towel to remove traces of the oil and salt from his lips and hands. He even flicked a few crystals of salt off his bare torso.

But as he turned to head into the den, he decided that God must be punishing him for his earlier thoughts about teasing his partner. Completely forgetting his plans to torture her, Booth stood mesmerized by the sight of his partner. She was wearing his favorite old pair of boxers and a t-shirt that hugged her curves more adeptly than it had ever showed off his muscles. Her hair was wet and her beautiful face was completely clean and natural. He couldn't breathe—God, she was gorgeous.

He wasn't sure when his brain had shut off all but thoughts of his partner's body. Booth had been somewhere else mentally when his partner had stepped closer and grasped his arm. "Booth, someone's at the door. Don't you hear the knocking?"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry," Booth said, bolting out of the room and toward the door of his apartment. Checking the peephole, he opened the door quickly.

"What took you so long, Seeley? Two more minutes, and we'd have kicked the door in," Fallon barked as she shook her head at him and barged into the apartment.

At the same time that Patterson was rushing into the room, Brennan entered from the other side. "Booth, you left your shirt in the kitchen," Temperance said, walking into the room holding up his long-forgotten t-shirt.

There was a long moment when nobody knew what to say. It was obvious that Patterson assumed she'd walked in on something physical - or the aftermath of something physical - between the partners. Booth was absolutely shocked that Brennan didn't blurt out something horribly inappropriate to relieve Fallon's confusion.

Each person in the room was uncomfortable and yet nobody said anything to diffuse the tension. Booth tried to ignore the stares his partner and his former lover had shot at one another. He knew no good could come from his prying open that can of worms.

"What happened, Fallon? I assume there's been a break in the case?" he asked, hoping that were true and that they could all focus on something besides the awkward tension in the space that suddenly felt small and claustrophobic.


	10. Chapter 10

_**[A/N: So very glad it's Friday. I'm missing Bones on TV but very grateful to have fanfiction to read! **_

_**I really am impressed with the depth and the extent of your reviews here. Thank you so much for letting me know what you think and for keeping me on my toes! **_

_**I don't own BONES or Booth (sigh), but I'm an adoring fan.**_

_**When we last left our dynamic crime-fighting duo, they had been interrupted while ogling one another. Yeah, we're gonna pick up right there….]**_

Chapter 10: The Extent of the Enmity

It took the entire reservoir of Patterson's professional experience for her to avoid blatantly glaring at Brennan. She shouldn't have been surprised to find the woman stuck like glue to Seeley. She supposed that's part of the reason she was so upset. She'd overlooked that possibility. She seldom overlooked any possibility. There were guards right outside. It wasn't like Seeley to be indiscreet. The fact that he was sleeping with his partner and not hiding that fact was disturbing and unexpected. In addition to being an annoying complication in her plans to seduce her former lover, Brennan was causing Seeley to take professional risks and she was throwing Patterson off her game. Besides, she should have been the one there with Seeley distracting him from his worries in ways that would ease her own libido.

Brennan continued to stare silently at Patterson as if her death-ray glare might vaporize her. She made no secret of her distaste for the woman and her disapproval of her presence. She could surmise that the woman had mistaken impressions about the relative state of undress of the partners, and she was surprisingly comforted by the awkwardness of that misconception. She'd let Booth explain that they hadn't just finished making love passionately. Or not. As soon as that thought registered, she purposefully moved closer to him so that Patterson would have to face the sight of them together in relative undress.

Part of her wanted to drag Booth back to his room and do that — make love to him passionately - just so that he couldn't explain to Patterson that he and she were only partners, simply friends. She felt as if she'd crack into pieces if he chose that moment to say those very words. Disturbed by those thoughts but stubbornly refusing to voice them, Brennan stood glaring at the agent who was taking too long to brief them on the case.

"Fallon, what happened?" Booth demanded, taking a step closer to her to encourage her to blurt out the news.

"The heart in the backpack belonged to Ms. Juarez. We just got confirmation."

"We had anticipated this news, Agent Patterson. Surely you could have called to tell us...," Brennan began. This was obviously a ruse by Patterson to visit Booth in his apartment — probably in an attempt to seduce him.

"There's more, Dr. Brennan. There's been another murder."

"Out with it, Patterson. We need specifics," Booth half-growled.

The Terror in the Twelve-Year-Old

Lance Sweets had spent the afternoon and early evening trying to get inside the head of a serial killer. Abnormal psychology was fascinating, but applying that and other disciplines to the minds of people bent on killing was truly exhausting. He'd been following the case of the Taker since the team had determined that a serial killer was at work. Unfortunately, most of his work had to be thrown out now that the killer had begun obviously stalking Booth.

Exhausted, Sweets had picked up takeout on the way home and eaten in his car in the parking lot. His appetite sated, he was now on a mission. Rest was what he needed - badly. He'd shower and collapse into bed. Nothing would stop him from doing those two things quickly.

After pulling his car into the garage and entering his home, however, Sweets had found temporary reserves of energy. He'd gone around the place locking all of his doors and windows carefully. Cases like this always gave him the creeps. He knew there were agents watching his home and standing guard, but he figured that making sure the doors were locked made sense. Plus, he got a chance as he checked the mail to wave at the agents to make certain they were paying attention. They had been.

Yawning, he'd taken the mail into his kitchen and placed it on the counter. He hadn't expected a package, so his curiosity had been piqued by the box about the size of a child's shoe box in his mail.

After fishing scissors out of a drawer across the room, Sweets cut open the paper and unwrapped the box. Still having no idea what it was, he opened the box slowly. Perhaps it was a gift from Daisy. They'd spoken occasionally since her return to the states. Sighing, he shrugged off that idea. It was probably some Star Trek memorabilia he'd ordered online months ago and forgotten about.

It took him a long moment after lifting the lid off the box to move. He'd been truly horrified to find what had to be a human brain in a gallon plastic bag inside the box. Even an internal psychologically-trained pep talk hadn't stopped his hands from shaking. Finally calm enough to trust his voice, he called Rackley and told him that he might have received a package from the Taker. No, there hadn't been a vice inside, and the box didn't contain a heart. But Sweets knew no one else who'd have sent him a human brain.

After reporting the package, Sweets called the agents over and they wrapped the package carefully for transport back to the lab taking a weary psychologist with them. Sweets didn't need self-analysis to know that he'd have volunteered to go with them even if they hadn't insisted that he do so. He was now terrified of staying home alone.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Dr. Sweets is not a scientist. The story you've recounted provides us with no evidence that this package was sent by the Taker...," Brennan began.

"There was a note," Patterson said, watching a shadow fall over Booth as he realized that another person had been murdered because he hadn't yet found the damned Taker.

Booth walked over and smacked a fist hard against a wall in his frustration. Normally, Sweets would be there encouraging him, telling him that the Taker's bolder, more frequent kills were a sign that he was losing his cool and that he'd slip up. He knew himself that was usually the case. But he couldn't be sure that his twelve-year-old therapist would be able to calm down enough to help profile this wacko. The fact that the creep had tried to send a message through his shrink was distressing. Booth was worried for the kid, and he also felt violated—he had no idea who'd be the next target. He felt that anyone he knew might be caught in this freak's cross-hairs.

"What did the note say?" Brennan asked, moving closer to her partner and offering him the t-shirt they'd both long-since forgotten. He shrugged it on and sat on the sofa staring at the floor waiting for Patterson to tell them the latest.

"The note blamed Dr. Sweets. Called him a failure. Told him he'd failed to fix all that was broken about you, Booth," Patterson said, glancing at Brennan in a subtle attempt to signal her to let her know that she hadn't told them all about the note and that she was planning to spare Booth all of the details.

"Tell us. What else did it say?" Brennan demanded of her, realizing that Booth needed to know the extent of this killer's hatred of him. Maybe there was a clue in the message that only Booth could find.

Patterson looked as if she was fully prepared to take a swing at Brennan for forcing her to explain the rest of the letter in front of the man it had discussed. Knowing that Booth would now demand that she tell him, she sighed and continued, "It said that you don't care about the victims of crimes. It said that you take too long to solve cases and that people suffer because you're incompetent," Patterson said quietly.

"I'm sorry, Booth," Fallon whispered, hating the wince she saw on Seeley's face. "We all know this is just some sicko trying to mess with you. Don't let it bother you."

In true defense mode, Brennan spoke before Booth could respond, "Thank you for giving us this news. I trust that the FBI is taking care of Dr. Sweets and that the letter and the brain are being sent to the lab for analysis," Temperance said, standing as if to indicate that Patterson was being dismissed.

Annoyed but undeterred, Patterson walked over and placed a hand on Booth's shoulder, "We'll get this asshole, Seeley. He's slipping. He's off his gourd. We're closer to catching him. Don't let him rattle you, okay?"

Booth nodded slightly to acknowledge her words. Frustrated that he wouldn't talk to her or look up at her, Patterson turned to leave.

She cringed feeling Brennan only a step or two behind her. Being escorted out by this woman was more than a bit humiliating.

As she stepped outside the doorway to Booth's apartment, Patterson looked past Brennan for one last glance at her former lover. More of her emotions visible than she'd intended, she glared at the woman and left after demanding that she "take care of him."

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

When she closed the door and turned around, Booth was nowhere to be seen. Puzzled, Brennan listened carefully and moved quietly through the apartment in search of her partner. She found him sitting on the side of the bed now clad in jeans and pulling on socks and sneakers. He was obviously headed back to the office.

"Booth, you need to rest."

"People are dying, Bones. I can't just lie here and pretend that's not happening."

"I understand your frustration, but you are exhausted. You'll be no help to the team if you don't get some sleep." She pretended not to notice how closely her words paralleled those in the note Patterson had just described. She didn't think Booth was incompetent, and she wouldn't tolerate it if he started believing that himself.

"You're not asleep, Bones. Hell, you normally work through your stress by working day and night at the lab. You of all people are in no position to criticize me." He didn't want to have this argument with her and he certainly wasn't going to argue with her in his bedroom. He had to get her out of his bedroom, dammit. Because even though he had more on his mind than ever, having her there permanently was starting to seem like an option he should pursue physically—and fast.

She flinched at the raw edge of his words. She felt more than heard them. She knew that he was lashing out in pain and that she just happened to be the only person there, but she couldn't let it go. She followed him as he stomped toward the door of his apartment.

"I'm not criticizing you. I'm being rational. You need sleep. I'm just trying to be your partner, Booth."

"Well, you don't have to sit here and babysit me. I'm not an invalid."

"No one thinks you're an invalid, Booth-least of all me. This case has been stressful. You need to take care of yourself."

Booth whirled on her, his body signalling his intense distress. He spoke through gritted teeth, "What I really need is to drive myself to the office and check in with Rackley. I'm sure you mean well, Bones, but your sitting here metaphorically holding my hand is not helping. We decided that our partnership wasn't headed in that direction." His self-control was slipping. He hadn't meant to say all of that. He obviously needed some time away from Bones even more than he needed to have her by his side being supportive.

That stung. She'd been so caught up in feeling jealous and protective and drawn to him. The fact that he'd seen through her façade called her on it was unnerving, "What direction? The direction of friends supporting one another? You've stayed with me when I was upset many times. You've held my hand and let me cry on your shoulder. You've offered "guy hugs" and demanded that I accept them. That's what I've been doing. I've been being your partner, Booth."

He spoke before thinking, realizing all too late that there was no way to reel the words back in and take them back, "Is that all you're doing, Bones? I mean, first you're here in my apartment ogling me and then you're walking around in my damned underwear looking...," he stopped short of saying what he thought. She'd looked beautiful, freshly showered, exactly the way he imagined she'd look after he'd made love to her. But he knew that if he said that out loud to her while he was angry and she was standing there looking like that, he'd be unable to stop himself from hauling her back to his bedroom and finding out exactly what she looked like after they made love—to find out if his imagination of her beauty after their intimacy had been realistic. After pausing long enough to find new words, he continued, "Then you're smirking at my ex-girlfriend and shoving her out of my apartment on her ass like it means something that you're the one staying here with me instead of her. I can't handle dealing with everything that's going on here tonight, Bones. Not on top of everything else."

His words cut figurative slashes through her skin. The wounds were deep. He'd seen through her struggles and insecurity, and he had the audacity to challenge her about them. She flew at him in a blind rage.

"Don't you belittle our friendship and what we do for each other! I know you're angry, and I know I hurt you badly last year, but I'm here because I'm your partner and your friend, Booth. And I won't have you disparaging me or questioning my motives!"

Surprised by the tears in her eyes as much as he was by the vehemence with which she was defending "them," he sighed. "Bones, I'm sorry. Really. I just..." How was he supposed to convince her that he was grateful for her presence and her help and her encouragement when she was literally making him ache for her in ways not remotely appropriate for business partners? Bones was brutally honest. He knew she wasn't trying to drive him crazy. He'd probably imagined the ways he thought Bones was messing with him and with Patterson. He was probably that far gone. He couldn't say for certain that he hadn't dreamt the whole thing up out of some pathetic need for her to want more from him that just friendship. Dammit, this was Bones, and Bones looked scared about what he'd say next. He couldn't say anything else to her because he just didn't know what he could say that wouldn't send his closest ally running away from him again.

She stood there watching him try to find the right words. Booth was never at a loss for words. Even when she knew that choosing them carefully cost him dearly, Booth always talked to her—even if he weren't completely honest or held back his feelings. She stared up at him, her hostility a heavy armor for her weary, fragile heart. She contemplated just kissing him and showing him what she felt for him besides partnership. She thought about telling him that she'd been dealing with feelings for him that made it impossible for her to act normally around him. She also considered telling him that she hated Patterson and that she wanted him to give things between them a shot. But the look on his face warned her all too clearly that Booth could obliterate her entire world with just a word that meant she was too late. Too terrified to act, she stood there staring at the man who was the pillar of her existence, afraid that he'd disassemble it within moments.

He saw it—her sheer terror. Furious and fed up or not, he couldn't be the source of that look in her eyes. Damning the circumstances, he reached out and pulled her to him, crushing her in a hug designed to say words neither of them could muster in that moment. After the initial shock wore off, she held him just as tightly as he grasped her. They stood there for an indeterminate time, seeking solace and companionship only in one another.

At last sufficiently comforted by his embrace, Brennan pried her head away from his chest, instantly aching for the loss of his steady heartbeat in her ear. She looked up at him, an expression he couldn't fathom on her face. "Booth...," she whispered as she gazed up at him. Gathering all of her considerable strength, she summoned the courage to tell him how she really felt.


	11. Chapter 11

_**[A/N: You have no idea how stunned I was by all of the reviews for the last chapter. That has to be an all-time record for me here—possibly with any story on any site. Wow! You guys are incredible! You were great sports about that cliffhanger, too!**_

_**As many of you know, reading a story and writing and unfolding it slowly and pacing it are two entirely different experiences. I know. I've been there yelling, too. Reading your comments reminded me all too clearly that you don't know what's planned. When you write ahead, it's easy to forget how cliffy an ending is or how confusing it is for a reader who's trying to follow the miserymaking. I should confess that some of your comments have led me to consider other routes I could have taken—maybe routes I should have taken. Your comments are THAT good! **_

_**Alas, you're stuck with my miserymaking ways if you keep reading here. Thank goodness I don't own BONES or anything affiliated with that amazing TV show! Here's what was planned next! Honestly.]**_

_**.**_

Chapter 11: The Anguish in the Artist

_At last sufficiently comforted by his embrace, Brennan pried her head away from his chest, instantly aching for the loss of his steady heartbeat in her ear. She looked up at him, an expression he couldn't fathom on her face. "Booth...," she whispered as she gazed up at him. Gathering all of her considerable strength, she summoned the courage to tell him how she really felt._

The sound of Booth's cell phone ringing startled both of them. Realizing that a call this late had to be important, they sprang apart and started searching for the phone. Brennan found Booth's phone in her jacket pocket and saw the caller ID. She clicked the call on so that it wouldn't go to voicemail.

Before she could tell her that she was the one answering Booth's phone, Temperance heard a panicked whisper that nearly knocked her to her knees.

"Booth, it's me—Ange. I'm at the art studio on 11th NE. Bren knows where. Come now. He's here... the Taker. He didn't know I had my phone in my pocket when he locked me in this closet. I'm worried there's not much time. Hurry. Please, Booth. Come now."

Booth watched the color drain out of his partner's face as the other line clicked off. Dropping his own jacket onto the floor, he rushed to her, their unspoken confessions long forgotten. "Bones... Bones, what is it?"

"Angela... He's got her," Temperance said in a shaky voice.

Military training had its advantages. Booth raced to his room and back within seconds. He handed Bones a pair of sweats and a gun. He scooped up her shoes and jacket as he slipped his feet into his sneakers and grabbed his own coat from the rack. Pausing only to pluck his badge and wallet and keys from his suit jacket, he ushered a clearly distraught Brennan out the door and toward his car. Booth was barking orders to the agents who were frantically rushing after him and his partner. He stopped and demanded that Bones tell him where Angela was. Giving the address to the agents, he told them to send units to that address QOA—quiet on arrival.

Foregoing any thoughts of chivalry, Booth raced around the SUV and jumped in, barely waiting for his partner to climb into the vehicle before slamming the car into drive and squealing tires out of the parking spot.

He glanced over at his partner as he maneuvered the vehicle quickly through the nearly empty streets, siren blaring. She'd begun pulling on his sweatpants as soon as she'd climbed in. She was tense and focused now—he'd known her shock would have only been temporary.

"She'll be fine, Bones. We'll get there. Stay behind me when we get there, okay? Shoot anyone that isn't Angela or me. Don't shoot to kill unless I say it's okay. We won't have time to move slowly or talk then."

"Now tell me about the gallery."

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth killed the siren five blocks from the art studio. He parked the car a block away and leapt out of the vehicle, noting that he'd lost his tail and that he and Bones would have to enter the building without backup already on site. Pausing only to make sure that Bones' vest was tight and in place, he rushed past her toward the building. When they saw the security guard lying motionless in the entryway, Booth motioned for Brennan to follow him around back.

Pausing only to offer a prayer for Angela's safety, Booth shot the lock off the door and kicked it open. He launched himself into the space, senses on full alert and with his partner right behind him.

Glancing at Bones for confirmation that they'd found the right room, he burst through the door, searching frantically for the killer who'd been terrorizing him. The room was empty. Hearing a noise in the closet, Booth crept over and pushed the door open, finding a sobbing Angela bound on the floor.

"Get in with her Bones. Don't turn your back on this doorway," he said quickly, pulling another handgun from a holster on his ankle and handing it to her, "Shoot anyone you don't recognize. I'll be right back."

"Be careful, Booth," Brennan whispered as he turned to leave the room.

"Take care of Angela," he said with an intense wordless message for his partner and a glance of reassurance at her best friend.

And without another word, he was gone.

.

_**[A/N: Would you believe me if I told you that I didn't plan for this to be quite so short and cliffy? Probably not, but it's true. The next chapter is MUCH longer and has a less cliffy ending. Just need to work on it a bit more. I think I'm gonna go hide now….]**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**[A/N: Sorry this took so long! Busy week and I got sidelined writing a one shot for Thnx4theGum's Hiatus challenge. I'll go right ahead and plug it shamelessly for those of you who haven't read it yet—**__**The Truth in Her Fiction**__**. I wish I'd taken time to streamline the middle (it was way too wordy even for me but I wrote it in a few hours and posted it immediately), but I liked the overall concept, and I think you might enjoy getting closure in that story since there's none here yet. **_

_**Writing that story was a nice diversion, but it's time that we got back to business here. Still working ahead on events to come, but I've probably left you on that cliff long enough.**_

_**You really are the most amazing reviewers ever! I hope you have some idea how much your feedback brightens my day—especially when you point things out to keep me in line!**_

_**No need for you to remind me that I don't own Bones or its characters. They're in much better hands!]**_

Chapter 12: The Discomfort in the Dead-end

Booth had searched the entire building by the time the squad of agents had arrived to swarm the building. Remarking only that the Taker had left the premises without being spotted, Booth pressed past Rackley and the other agents toward the studio where Bones was waiting with Angela. The artist flung herself into his arms as soon as she saw him. He held her tightly, grateful that she seemed unharmed. Even as he comforted his friend, he looked over at the woman he preferred to hold in his arms and wondered if that would ever be possible. He couldn't read the look on her face beyond seeing clearly that she was made unsteady by the events of the evening.

Angela broke down as Booth held her, and he had to focus on her exclusively for a while. "Shhh... it's okay. You're safe, Ange. Nobody's going to hurt you. I won't let that happen. Hodgins is on his way over. You're fine. We got you. It's okay."

Sniffling and trying to smile at him, Angela looked up at him with an expression that nearly broke his heart. He could feel the stares of agents - including Patterson - boring into him, but he just didn't care. His friend was in pain, and she'd almost been killed by someone trying to hurt her because of him. Screw the bureau and their demands that he be all business and keep his feelings hidden. He was taking this timeout and letting his friend know that he was damned happy to be able to hold her.

He sat down on a stool by the nearest table and wrapped his arms around Angela and cradled her as he would have a lover or small child. She leaned into his strength and warmth and goodness, relishing the comfort she found there. Booth rocked her and consoled her and told her how happy he was that she was safe. He let his guard down completely and pulled her near, pouring his heart into helping her calm down after the near-catastrophic encounter with the serial killer. The intimacy of the moment could have made everyone uncomfortable witnessing it, but instead it served to increase the respect the agents had for the special agent.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Oh my God, Angie," Jack said in relief as he saw that his wife was safe. He swept her out of Booth's arms in one motion and held her as if his own life depended upon it. Booth knew in that moment that it actually did.

Booth stepped back to give them space and dared to glance at his partner. God, he wanted to rush over and pick her up and carry her away and promise her a love that made Jack's and Angela's look like harmless flirting. Unable to do so for fear that she'd crush him again, he smiled and nodded at her from across the room, wondering if she could see the way he longed for her.

Unable to do what he wanted, he did what he could. Turning to Rackley, he reported what he'd seen. After he'd briefed the agent, gotten assurance that the guard had been taken to the hospital, and learned that all of the other evidence had been collected, Booth nodded at Rackley as if to suggest that he needed to be the one to ask Angela about that night's events.

"Ange, we need details. I know you're upset, but we want to catch this creep. Can you tell me about tonight? About what you remember?"

"Booth, man, can't this wait until tomorrow?" Hodgins insisted with a glare.

Angela surprised them all by being adamant that she give her statement right then, "No, Jack. Now. I'm doing this now and then I want to forget it. All of it."

Booth nodded at her and smiled at her encouragingly. "What time did you get to the studio?"

Angela swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. "About eight. Maybe a little after."

"Was Anderson here with you?" Booth asked, nodding toward the door where the agent had been found.

"Yes. He was right outside. Came in and checked around to make sure everything was safe and then waited outside. Oh my God, is he going to be all right?"

Booth reassured her that he'd just been knocked out—not killed by his attacker. According to Angela's statement, the Taker snuck into the studio in the heart of the district where Angela painted regularly in the evenings and locked her in a closet. Angela hadn't gotten a great look at him—he'd snuck up behind her and shoved her into the closet from behind. She described the sounds she'd heard that had been the noises the Taker had made in setting up the vise on the art counter across the room. She looked over at the table and shuddered realizing how close she'd come to dying in that very room. It was clear to everyone there that The Taker had clearly been planning for Angela to be his next victim.

Booth finessed the story out of Angela gently and satisfied the team that she'd told them everything they'd get. He hugged her again and thanked her for cooperating. He leaned down and kissed her cheek and whispered that he was happy that she was safe. He was turning to walk across the room when he was bear-hugged by Hodgins. "I don't have enough money to pay you what I owe you, man," an emotional Hodgins confessed before he backed away and put his arms back around his wife.

"Take her home and take care of your better half, Hodgins," Booth said with a smile. Jack nodded at him and led Angela out of the room, his arm wrapped firmly around her and two agents following them to the car.

Rackley walked over to Booth, "He wore gloves and a cap. We've dusted the whole place and come up with nothing. This scene isn't going to help us catch him," he said in frustration.

"Angela will help more tomorrow. She'll be able to estimate his height and tell us more about what he looked like and how he smelled and sounded. She's a genius with those kinds of details. She'll remember more once the shock wears off. But have the room swept again. Bones insists that there's always trace evidence—we just need to look hard enough. Check everything again," Booth demanded. With a nod, Rackley turned and gave that order.

Patterson's heart had barely slowed since she'd heard that Booth had been first on the scene that night. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to strangle him or seduce him, so she wandered over and spoke to him while she made her mind up. Relief flooded her as she neared him and felt the ever present attraction his body always stirred in her. She made a point of invading his personal space as she whispered to him, "So, Angela told me that you two didn't have a history. But the way you handled her tonight definitely says otherwise. Care to share?"

Surprising her, Booth didn't back away. It was probably just his desire to keep the conversation private, but she was determined to think that it meant something more, "Angela is my friend… Bones' best friend. I love her like family, Fallon. You don't get to make that dirty. It's not."

"Oh, sorry...," Patterson stammered, realizing how upsetting her accusation would be for Booth. She stayed close so that they could bicker in private. Changing course, she made another strategic error, "Call me next time you're in the field, Booth."

Booth gritted his teeth and spoke to her in a low, dangerously calm voice, "Seriously? You're going to go there? I had other agents call for backup. Saving the life of a friend is more important than making sure my babysitter gets to watch me try to do it, Patterson. File a complaint if you want to, I'm not apologizing for ignoring a stupid protocol when my friend's life was in danger."

Patterson reached out and touched his arm, reeling momentarily from the feel of his strong muscles under her touch after so many years. That simple contact brought back her desire for him full force, "Dammit, Booth. I'm not the enemy. How am I ever going to report back that you're a hundred percent if I never see you work? That's all I was saying. I know you want me off your back. You have to help make that possible."

"I don't need you to do me any favors, Fallon. I don't need melodrama from you right now. I have a job to do and a killer to stop." With that, he walked away from her, leaving a concerned and frustrated woman in his wake.

Booth hadn't noticed his partner watching as he had spoken quietly with his former lover. Barely more than an hour earlier, she'd come close to voicing her feelings to her partner. She'd almost blurted out that she wanted him to revisit his offer of giving things between them a chance. But Angela's call had pulled them out of that moment.

Temperance sighed. As she watched him speak intimately with his former lover and even after she could stomach it no longer, her mind and heart felt as if both were whirling around wildly in her body. She ached as she hypothesized that she and Booth must be like the fictional characters in one of Shakespeare's tragic classical works of literature. Seeing him close to another woman he'd loved reminded her all too clearly that she and Booth just weren't meant for that same fate. Instead, they were star-crossed 'would-be' lovers—never meant for a time of true happiness together.

The closer they got—

* that night at the bar all those years ago before he'd confessed to her alone that he had a gambling problem;

* that day outside the diner when he'd pulled her face toward his gently and told her there was more than one kind of family (before Zack had motioned them inside and broken the spell);

* that day at the hotel out in Vegas when she'd told him that she'd wanted her beginner's luck to keep him safe;

* that day when he'd helped her bury that sweet, abused dog;

* that night when he'd taught her how to repair a broken pipe and they'd both been floored by the electricity that flowed from the simple placement of his hand over hers;

* the night at the Egyptology exhibit when both of them had considered kissing more than once and had nearly followed the impulse;

* the night outside Sweets' office when he'd given her his heart and she'd run from it;

* the day at the airport when staying together seemed far more logical than spending a year apart;

* the day they got back and held one another forever beside the coffee cart; and

* tonight when they'd fought and yet fallen back toward one another naturally again—

the more painfully disappointing it was that each moment passed and nothing else happened. Along with those big "moments" and memories of their intimate times together, there were innumerable memories of more simple and subtle touches and glances and gestures and kindnesses which had caused one or both of them to pause and take a deeper breath to consider the possibility of changing what lie between them. Despite the plethora of things that pulled them closer together, something always kept one or both of them from stepping across the line that divided them. Something always stopped them from moving as close as both of them wanted.

She could only surmise that their relationship was simply a pure, unbreakable friendship that would remain supplemented by tiny little glimpses of what could have been if they were different people in a different time—or, more accurately, if she were someone she was not. True love of the sort Booth wanted should have been easy. Given their failure to move past a series of unforgettable moments, they just weren't destined for that kind of connection. She realized she was the cause of their separation, but that didn't make bearing it any easier.

Standing there across the crowded room and never feeling more lonely, she had watched Booth talk intimately with a woman with whom he'd willingly crossed the line that he'd once drawn between them. Realizing how futile trying to change the unchanging situation they now faced was, Temperance was overcome with emotion. She ran out and asked Jack to take her back to the lab. She really had been terribly concerned for Angela's safety and well-being, so it wasn't unbelievable for her to request just a few more moments to be with her friend. It hurt that Booth didn't even notice that she left. Not realizing how badly she'd misread what was going on across that art studio, she figured it was only appropriate that he was too immersed in someone with whom he'd been intimate to give her departure any notice.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Today had truly been the day from hell. One nightmare after another-all freaking day long. Although gratitude that Parker was safe was constantly his primary thought, Booth felt the rest of the God-forsaken day was mostly a blur-constant chaos, absolute frustration, hardly any progress on the case at all.

However difficult the day had been, he couldn't focus on much of it past being grateful that his friends and family were currently safe. No, his thoughts and feelings were settled more squarely on the insanity of his interactions with his partner. He'd lashed out at her in frustration when she'd never been better to him. She'd been his lifeline most of the day—the thing that kept him going. Hell, she was always the thing that kept him going.

But tonight in the apartment, Bones had been behaving in ways that didn't fit with their normal friendship. She'd been acting more like his lover than his friend, and he knew he'd prefer that she become his lover while she remained his friend-but she'd told him that wasn't possible. He wasn't sure how to read her bizarre behavior. Was she just going too far out of concern for him? Was she changing her mind? Was she struggling with the unnecessary confines of their "only friends" arrangement? His heart stutter-stepped just considering that possibility. Could he handle finding out he'd dreamt the whole thing up?

Cowed but never a coward, he sought her out, determined to call her on her crap and make her talk to him. When he learned that she'd left with Hodgins and Angela, it felt as if his own heart were in a vise. Had she gotten scared and run? Or had she decided that taking a chance on them remained too risky and something she shouldn't do? They should have gone back to his apartment and talked about it, dammit! It wasn't fair of her to spin his head and his heart around and then just leave him as if it had never happened. Besides, she had to know that he was terrified that something might happen to her. All these attacks were being made on the people close to him and she hadn't even been contacted? The Taker surely had plans to hurt Bones. Booth couldn't imagine another way to hurt him more.

"Rackley, have the techs scrub the scene and make sure all the evidence goes to the Jeffersonian," Booth ordered, forgetting that this wasn't his crime scene. He stormed out of the building and down to his SUV, barely acknowledging the fact that the agents had checked his car to make certain it was safe. Throwing the car into drive and hardly waiting for the shadow car to catch up with him, Booth raced across town.

Booth hit the most frequently dialed number on his speed dial and seethed when there was no answer, "Bones, call me in five minutes, or I will track you down."

Sighing, he hung up the phone, frustrated in an all too familiar way with her. What was it about his feelings for her that made him so eager to bang his head against that old familiar wall? It seemed that his capacity to suffer because of loving her was limitless. She'd made it clear that she didn't want his company, yet he was calling to insist upon it. He was obviously a fool for love. He could understand if her respect for him suffered because of it. Hell, he could barely respect himself. Did that stop him? Hell, no. He knew it never would.

Still, he had to know that she was safe. He couldn't just go home and go to sleep not knowing. Did he prefer the thought of her there with him and under his careful guard? Of course. Would he give her more space than that if she demanded it? When the hell had he ever been able to say no to that woman about anything more than driving and carrying a gun…?

He received a text message a few minutes later, "Saying goodnight to Angela. Will call soon." His blood pressured dropped slightly. By leaving with Angela, Bones had left him with no valid reason to complain that she hadn't stayed with him. He hated the certainty with which he knew that she'd done so on purpose. Trying to outwit a genius was a challenge he too often tried and failed to meet.

_Score another one for Bones_, he thought miserably. She'd found a rational reason to avoid him and whatever she might or might not be feeling.


	13. Chapter 13

_**[A/N: Remember all that talk about writer's block with this story? Yeah… You might wish I was still blocked about here. More in the note at the end.]**_

Chapter 13: The Irony in the Intimacy

Early the next morning, Booth rushed into his partner's office. He tried not to show how relieved he was to find her safe. But God, it felt good to see that with his own eyes. Sleep had eventually dragged him under for a few hours, but it had been difficult to relax because he had been aching to turn back the clock and talk to her about whatever was going on in that genius mind of hers.

"Anything new from the lab about the case?" he asked casually, wishing that he could tell her how much he'd missed her, how much he needed her to stay safe, how much he longed to sweep her off her feet and move somewhere far, far away where their biggest problems would be deciding whether to lounge in a hammock on the beach or go for a run and, more importantly, where she'd never be far from his loving embrace.

She looked up at him, aching seeing how she'd added to his worries. Still, she knew that spending any more time with him would have caused him greater pain.

"We're collecting data for Angela to run through a new program, comparing time of death, age, race, sex, particulates, and other data in new ways using more complex algorithms. We'll find a pattern, Booth. A pattern that will help us bring the Taker in."

"Good. Keep me posted. How's Ange?"

She didn't underestimate the good in the man before her, but she felt a surge of something dangerous seeing the genuine concern for her best friend on his face. "She's fine. Home with Hodgins. Those two are now inseparable. They've set up a remote link. Hodgins won't let her leave their bedroom."

Booth could relate all too well to his friend's position. If only things were different with Bones, he'd do the same damned thing. "How about you, Bones? You holding up okay?" It was all he could do to plant himself firmly where he was standing just inside her office and to say nothing more.

"I'm fine, Booth. You don't need to worry about me."

He sighed and bit back the words he longed to say. Instead, he said what he could, "You're my partner. I'll always worry about you most of all, Bones."

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The tension and emotion in the room were truly smothering. He looked at her and saw almost enough reason to hope.

"Booth...," she began, uncertain how to explain to him what she had been feeling and terrified enough now to realize clearly that saying anything might be a tragic mistake. She'd had all night to try to talk herself out of saying anything to him, and she had been extremely persuasive. She'd rather have him close as her partner and as her best friend than to risk losing him altogether.

"Excuse me, Dr. Brennan?" an unwelcomed visitor spoke from the doorway.

Patterson was no idiot. She'd realized she was walking in on what had to be a serious moment. She was grateful she'd interrupted it, but she had no idea how heart-crushing her arrival had been to the scientist who had hoped that she and her partner might finally find more than just a fleeting moment of true togetherness. Sadly for that scientist, the ill-timed interruption was just another piece of evidence proving that her theory that she and her partner would remain only partners was valid.

Too emotional to speak, Brennan only nodded. Booth narrowed his eyes at the visitor, frustrated that she'd stopped a long overdue conversation from happening-again.

"I wanted to tell both of you that I've turned in my report. Booth is officially back on duty without the need for review or supervision."

"It's about time," Brennan spat, not hiding her distaste for the woman.

"You were right, Dr. Brennan. I never intended to report anything other than Seeley's competence, his excellence, and his suitability for duty. I never doubted him for a moment. He's the finest agent in the bureau. However, I couldn't very well do so without actually observing him, or my report would not have been received as credible."

Turning to Booth, she smiled, "I told the Director that my assignment was pointless and a waste of everyone's time. You handled everything last night like a pro—even when your friend was in danger. Even in the face of emotional situations, you can still do your job effectively. You're as competent as ever. I hope that having me off your back will make dealing with this case easier. You'll find this ass, Booth. You and your fine team of scientists will catch him. You're close. I know that you can do this."

Booth only nodded. He hoped like hell she was right.

"Dr. Brennan, it was a pleasure meeting you. I regret that we weren't able to become closer colleagues, but I am happy to know that Seeley is working with a partner who is competent, professional, and intelligent. He's lucky to have you."

"Thank you," Brennan said. She'd never been one to make false statements for social reasons, and she wasn't going to do so now. "Have a safe trip back to Philadelphia," she added, surprising Booth by providing a "normal" response to her announcement. Across the room, Fallon smiled with the knowledge that she was making the woman happy by leaving.

The agent turned and left the office without saying another word. But before she left, she made a point of pausing to stare at Booth long enough for her gaze to be appreciated by everyone present for what it meant.

That glance was noticed most of all by Brennan. And the raw jealousy it engendered prompted her to do the unthinkable. For once, her brain wasn't able to grasp the significance of its actions until they'd unfolded. Her heart took control and tried to issue a pre-emptive strike. Unfamiliar with operating under the control of that vulnerable muscle, she did the one thing most likely to cause it more pain.

"She still wants to engage in coitus with you, Booth," Brennan said with her usual penchant for stating the obvious more bluntly than anyone else could. She could see clearly now that she was on the other side of the invisible wall separating her from a closer relationship with Booth. She couldn't cross over—she couldn't be that type of person in his life. She was his friend. That was all she had left of her relationship with him. She had to dig in and hold onto that no matter what the cost.

Hit full force by raging emotions, she needed more distance from him now that she realized that telling him her feelings would only hurt both of them. She needed him to put more distance between them for his sake—and for her own.

"Well, she's leaving," Booth said in hopes of closing the subject.

"Now that she's not responsible for reviewing your work, you should contact her... ask her out."

"Bones..."

"Really, Booth. You have a beautiful woman with whom you're sexually compatible throwing herself at you. Most men would jump at that opportunity."

"Well, you know... I'm not most men," he said with an air of smug satisfaction she saw straight through.

"I concur. But Booth, you passed up another opportunity. Last year, you said you were moving on. You need to do that… move on."

"Bones..." _Oh God, not now. _

"It's the only rational thing to do."

As terrified as he was of having this discussion with her, his temper flared and threw him into the fire head-first, "It's rational for me to go out with a woman who dumped me brutally and married my best friend?"

"You've both matured. And it is apparent that time hasn't dampened the mutual attraction."

"Bones, why don't we talk about the case?" Booth asked, realizing all too quickly that this conversation was spiraling into a dangerous place.

"Ignoring this problem is only going to damage our partnership and our friendship."

"Bones, we've managed for years with and without me having a girlfriend. And nothing can damage our partnership... or our friendship."

"No, you've put things on hold. You can't spend your time like that."

"Bones, I am perfectly capable of managing my own social life. Besides," he said, clearing his throat realizing how dangerous the ground he was standing on was, "You're butting in and overstepping here. You have made it clear that you want no part of my romantic life."

Hearing him say what she'd done—and what she was about to do—hurt deeply. She struggled to find the right words, "As a participant…, no. But as your friend. As your best friend, Booth? I can't allow you to continue on this path. It's not healthy for you."

"What are you saying here, Bones?"

"I'm telling you to find someone. I watched you with Angela… last night. You held her, comforted her, shared a portion of yourself with her—even though your alpha male colleagues were watching. You willingly risked ridicule and worse without considering any alternate course because your friend needed to be held. Booth, you have an open, enormous heart. You deserve to have someone love you the same way you're capable of loving her. You deserve to have an emotional connection to help you get through times like this."

"I'm not complaining about having you on my side, Bones."

"No, you wouldn't. And as your friend, I'm grateful. But you deserve more."

Booth wouldn't admit it, but he was as terrified about what they'd been dancing around as his ever-frustrating partner was. He decided to stop her—as much for his own sake as for hers, "Bones, this conversation is more than a year overdue. But I can't… Not today, okay? People are dying. I need to focus on the case. I can't have you leaving the country again or turning our worlds upside down again. I need you here to be my partner. I need you to stay here beside me and keep me focused on the facts and the evidence. I need you with me… as my friend… to get through this case. Something like planning my social life can wait a little bit longer. Now's not the right time for this conversation."

"You and I both know that you don't think anything is more important than loving someone. You have to move on and find that person, Booth."

"Bones, I...," he began, but his words were cut off when his partner rushed into his arms. Stunned, terrified, and still delusionally hopeful, he held her tightly.

Surprised that she'd run toward him instead of fleeing the way she had anticipated, Brennan clung to him desperately, aching with need for him but wanting more for him to be happy. "You have to stop waiting for me, Booth. You have to move on. You have to find someone who can be there with you for the next 30, 40, or even 50 years."

He hated what she was saying, and he really didn't want to have this conversation. But holding her emboldened him to say more than he normally would have. "I think I'm the best judge of what is best for me," Booth said squeezing her even more tightly to his chest and praying that she'd finally realize what he knew at the core of his being.

She turned her head so that he could hear her words clearly as she clung to his body, "I am attracted to you. I care about you deeply. But I can't offer you more than that. I can't give you what you need. And I can't allow you to deprive yourself of a relationship of the nature you deserve."

"Bones," Booth whispered as she pulled back to look at him. He held her there near him and gazed deeply into her eyes, tracing a fingertip along the length of the right side of her face adoringly. "Bones, you are still what I want... You're what I need."

As much as she wanted that to be true, she could not convince her rational mind that she could be the person who would be best for him. And he and his happiness were what mattered most. Only Booth mattered. "You can move on and find someone capable of giving back to you. You have an amazing, enormous heart. You can use it to find the right someone for you."

"What if I don't want anyone else?" he confessed, aching with the knowledge that this conversation would be life-changing and that his genius partner was damned determined to have it in the middle of this insane case anyway.

She bit back her own emotion and tried to rationalize with him, "Over the years that I've known you, I've come to realize that your heart enables you to do things that seem impossible. You were able to be a friend to your brother when he betrayed you, you put up with horrible mistreatment by Rebecca so that you could have time with Parker, you managed to stay friends with Cam despite your prior relationship. You even waited for years for me and opened me up to things I thought I'd never experience. If you try, Booth… if you really try to move on, you will find someone else to love and fall in love with her. Your heart is unstoppable. I don't believe in faith in general, but I have faith in your heart and its ability to help you do anything you really try to do."

With a tear in his eye, he smiled down at her and gazed at her in a way that he seldom dared to do. "There's a problem with your theory, Bones," he said in a tender whisper that seemed to liquefy her metaphorical spine.

"I am being entirely rational, Booth," she said, trying to pull away from him to prove that fact to him since she could not believe it to be accurate herself. She quickly realized he was not going to let her go.

"If my heart is large and powerful enough to help me do anything I need to do, then it's strong enough to help me wait for you and convince you to love me. I want to wait. I have faith in us, Bones."

Sheer terror rocked her. She simply could not risk believing that she would not be crushed when the good man before her became disappointed in her—when he finally found the courage to find someone who could love him the way he was capable of loving someone. She could see that he obviously still loved her—without a single doubt, with every fibre of his being. Clinging to reason while drowning in emotion, she convinced herself she could see the situation more clearly than he could. It was obvious to her that he needed someone who wasn't stunted emotionally, who shared his faith and belief in soul mates, who was capable to letting someone else have control her heart. Her every instinct told her to push him away and run away so that she could find a way to compartmentalize what she was feeling, "I am the variable in the equation you're overlooking, Booth. I won't change my mind. I am not variable. I won't change. I'm a constant—the one immovable force that your heart can't overcome. I have reached the conclusion that I cannot give you what you need. I tried. I wanted to be. I... I wish that I could be. But I'm not. And I can't allow you to continue to be hurt by me, Booth. I care about you too much to hurt you."

"Well, what if I care about you too much to let go of you-no matter the cost?" he asked, his eyes scanning hers frantically, determined to find a reason to hold on.

She looked down at his muscled chest and knew that she had to do something drastic to convince him to let go, to move on. Repeating so much of their last conversation was even more gut-wrenching than it had been before. She ached to be the one to make him happy, but she loved him... she really loved him so much that she didn't want him to settle for less than the happiness he deserved.

Her tear-filled aquamarine eyes looked up and were lost in stormy chocolate ones. Making a life-altering decision with the precision and speed she alone was capable of, she reached her hands up and around his neck and pulled his lips down to hers.

Booth was more than stunned. But that shock evaporated as he felt the sinfully amazing sensation of his partner kissing him the way he'd always wanted. Their bodies melded together into the perfect fit they'd always known existed. Temperance tilted her head to allow Booth to explore her eager mouth more deeply. She was an endless well of softness, warmth, and something that felt life-sustaining. He had no idea that she was even more heavily impacted by his strength, his tenderness, and his ability to love.

The intensity of the kiss was breathtaking. He matched her advances and made more of his own, yet there was a gentleness and a peace overlaying the heat that now flowed freely between them. God, the reality of kissing his beloved partner with abandon like this far exceeded his wildest, most creative dreams. She felt him let go and immerse himself in her, and it nearly killed her to accept the fact that she shouldn't be the one to accept so much from him. She wasn't capable of providing for and nurturing him the way that he deserved.

Taking her time and melting his resolve, she continued to lose herself in the sheer pleasure of her partner's touch, the feel of his increased heart rate against her own chest, the way that his mouth seemed perfectly molded to hers. Her brain worked feverishly to memorize every sensation, every impulse her heart had already stored deep within itself.

When breathing became necessary, Brennan pulled back and looked up at her surprised partner. And then she pulled out of his embrace and walked across the room.

"Bones...," he stammered, following her and hating the way that he saw her straighten her spine, knowing that it meant she was shutting him out and pushing him away.

"You attribute emotion… and meaning to that kiss," she said calmly realizing that willingly breaking her own heart to protect his demanded all of her strength and determination.

"Don't tell me you don't, Bones."

"I care for you, Booth, and I'm attracted to you. I feel... things... for you, and I'm sure that translates into kissing you. But that's it. The emotion I feel is limited, ephemeral, not life-altering or as deep and committed as what you deserve. I can't let you settle for..."

Her words stopped short as her approaching partner yanked her body to his and kissed her more thoroughly, more completely, more intensely than she had ever imagined possible. His body said things he'd never voiced to her before. Hers responded desperately. How could it not?

Through his tender yet commanding touch, Booth showed her the depth and the breadth and the overwhelming intensity of his feelings for her. She felt as much for him. She was breathless, she was caught up in the force of his emotion and his body and his need of her. He transported her to a place full of comfort and emotion she had never imagined. She irrationally wanted this moment to last until she took her last breath.

Brushing his right palm along her cheek and then moving it tenderly to hold the back of her head in place so that she'd be forced to look him in the eye, Booth pulled back enough to gaze into her eyes, a heady combination of lust, love, and need filling his expression.

"What we have is full of emotion and meaning, Bones. What I feel for you is deeper than just pheromones and biological urges. It's need, Bones. It always has been. I feel it down in the core of my bones. I swear, you'd be able to see it if you examined them. There would be striations or other physical evidence of how much I need you to be more than just my partner and my friend. That's how much you mean to me."

She could have just kissed him back. She could have nodded. She could have confessed that she believed him and that her feelings ran just as deep. She could have done all those things and more. But as she looked up at the man whose heart she held in her hands once again, she couldn't. She wasn't equipped to handle hearts and tissue. They weren't solid or unbreakable, they were too vulnerable. She didn't want to make Booth more vulnerable to pain from her. Her feelings for him reminded her how much she wanted complete happiness for her partner. And she would not be convinced that she could be enough to bring him that happiness.

"You are a beautiful man inside and out, Booth. You are skilled in many ways. I am quite certain that intercourse with you would surpass many of my prior experiences. But I care too much for you to take advantage. I will not allow you to settle for fleeting sexual gratification when you want and deserve more. You will not get that with me. I am not capable of putting you or anyone else first. I need to be independent. I'm not what you need. I won't allow you to continue to hold out hope that it's possible. Please move on. I can't bear hurting you any more than I already have."

His desperation grew exponential as he stared down into the mask she forced him to view instead of the breaking heart she now could acknowledge was really possible, "Bones... You felt that, too. Don't you lie to me, Bones. We don't do that. We don't lie—not to each other." He willed her to confess what he knew in his heart that she felt.

She didn't lie to him. She'd spent her entire life and most of their partnership compartmentalizing. She did so by default now, "If I told you that I saw a happy future for us, I'd be lying. I'm trying to help you move on."

He said nothing. He looked up at her with an expression that told her that she'd wounded him deeply yet again.

"Move on, Booth. For the sake of our partnership. To save our friendship. Because I need you to let go of this idea that something different is possible. Please-for me and for you."

Clenching his jaw, he turned and walked to the doorway of her office. He turned to face her and stood there looking at her for a long moment. She could see the fresh wounds she'd inflicted overlaying the ones still clearly visible right below the surface. She could see that he was being honest with her—he needed her. She only wished that allowing herself to need him wouldn't damage the man she adored.

He knew in his gut that she was lying to him. He could have returned to her and kissed her until she stopped lying. He could have yelled at her and called her bluff. He could have told her to shove her logic and rationality and that he'd never give up on his hopes for them. He could have told her that he loved her enough to make up for all the lost lovers and missing parents and deserting brothers and cruel teenaged friends. He did. He loved her enough to spend the rest of his life making sure that she felt nothing but love and affection. That was all he truly wanted.

But the angle of her jaw and her posture told him that Bones had already made up her mind. He didn't think he was strong enough to battle her enormous brain—not while his own heart was broken. Demanding love from her then was as pointless as asking her not to think things through.

In sheer misery, he whirled and smacked the doorframe with the bottom of his clenched fist. Wheeling and heading out of the lab, he kicked a chair and sent it skidding across the platform and into the railing with a crash that drew people from their workspaces to see its source. The expletive he uttered echoed in her heart longer than it rang in her ears.

Her metaphorical heart in her throat and tears already falling, Temperance watched him leave the lab. She crossed the office and closed her door, locking it as she turned and pressed her back up against it. Then she crumpled to the floor and sobbed silently for the love she'd just sent away again.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth barked orders all day in a way that had everyone scrambling and no one brave enough to question him. He had junior agents pull details from files that had already been triple checked. He was a man on a mission determined to find the answer that had eluded them.

He'd left the laboratory on shaky limbs and with a heart so heavy he thought he'd collapse under it. _Damn, how had that happened?_ He hadn't meant to have that conversation with Bones. They avoided such talks—they had for years. They had both been even more gun shy about discussing their feelings after that night he'd pushed her to try things with him. They hadn't even come close to talking about that, or their time apart, or anything more than work and friendship in... forever. He had no freaking clue why Bones had chosen this moment - when his family and friends were in danger, his career was in question, and his case was going nowhere - to unload the mother of all bombshells on him.

Finding strength he didn't know he had, he had gone straight to the Hoover Building for his scheduled meeting with Parker and Rebecca. He'd held his son a little more tightly and gotten more emotional talking to Rebecca than any of them had been prepared to handle, but he'd reassured them both and promised to do whatever it took to keep them safe. He praised his son for his bravery and for his excellent performance on the baseball field and told him more times than he could remember how much he loved him. Relieved that they couldn't see past his worry about them to realize that his heart had been shattered by the woman they both knew he loved, he'd kept moving ahead.

Afterward, he'd felt that he need to work out or drink heavily or scream at the top of his lungs, but he hadn't. He headed straight to his desk, demanded that Rackley brief him on the latest, and gotten straight to work. As he opened the first file, an idea struck him as if sent from above. He halfway wondered if God was distracting him from his pain with the idea so that he wouldn't do anything stupid. Because every course of action he could consider when he contemplated a future without Bones made him feel stupid and reckless and more unstable and out of control than Seeley Booth ever was—even back when he had gambled.

Ironicially, it had been his... "conversation" with Bones… that had turned the light bulb on for him. Calling that discussion an argument didn't begin to cover it. Thinking about all of the years in which they'd danced around the issue of "them" and pondering the random triggers that caused them to confront their feelings tripped a switch in his brain. He'd rushed straight into Sweets' office to demand that the man help him with the case.

Barging in while still knocking, Booth rushed to the younger man's desk, leaned upon it, and stared across it at him intently. "I need you to tell me who's doing this."

Sweets recognized the tension in the agent leaning over his desk. He was in a threatening mood. And today he looked more likely than usual to follow through on his threats, "The Taker? Agent Booth, I already gave you my report. The profiling on this one is complicated. With more evidence, I can be more precise."

"The letter said that he was hurt because I was too late. I need you to tell me where to look. We've been thinking this was the work of a killer's surviving victim. What if it might be a killer's kid or something? We need a new lead, Sweets. We need to nail this perp fast."

"I'll take a look at the messages again. Maybe there's a clue."

"Good," Booth said, nodding at the man but not moving from his stance leaning over the desk. He stood there lost in thought and unable to move. Booth realized his being frozen there was symbolic of his inability to handle what had happened this morning, but he couldn't seem to make his body move. Dammit, he really didn't need to fall apart in front of Sweets.

As distraught as he was, he felt sympathy for the older, stronger man who now looked as vulnerable as he'd felt himself, "Agent Booth, is there something else on your mind?"

Booth continued to stare at a random spot on Sweets' blotter, "Yes."

"Why don't you talk to me about it? You're under a great deal of stress."

Booth inhaled, but his exhale was silent and shallow, "I can't."

"Talking about difficult matters often makes it easier to deal with them."

Booth's eyes rose slowly until they met the concerned ones of the psychologist, "I don't want to deal with it. I... I can't..." He'd never been more honest about anything.

Sweets was frightened by the terror and even more by the genuine anguish in the agent's expression. Dude, if Booth was this afraid of and hurt by something, it had to be huge, "It's normal to be overly concerned about Parker under these circumstances."

Booth just shook his head.

"It's not Parker?"

"No."

"I heard about Angela. Is it...?"

Booth shook his head to indicate that it wasn't.

_Oh, crap._ Sweets' expression morphed into a kind of sympathy Booth wasn't ready to handle, "It's Dr. Brennan. She's safe, right?"

Closing his eyes, Booth nodded slowly and sadly.

"You know how independent and stubborn she is. I suspect that you've been crowding in and trying to protect her. I know that she wouldn't handle that well."

"Bones has been great about the case," Booth confessed, his resolve to remain silent eluding him as was his ability to voice his utter distress.

"Well, you two argue often. I'm sure that the stress of the case..."

Again, Booth shook his head sadly. His disappointment and pain were palpable.

Acting on impulse as his friend more than his therapist, Sweets spoke carefully, "What do you need? What can I do?" Sweets said, rising and walking around to stand beside the man, tentatively placing a supportive hand upon his shoulder.

"Help me nail this bastard, and then help me figure out how the hell I'm supposed to move on," Booth whispered. He turned and left the room without looking at Sweets or saying another word.

Stunned and concerned for him, Sweets pulled out the files determined to find something that might help them with the case. He made a mental plan to stop by the lab later that day. If Booth was actually as torn up as he seemed, a certain forensic anthropologist must have been devastated. Besides, he'd rather face her wrath than go home and risk finding another body part waiting to terrify him.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Given the fact that she'd returned to her work with the intensity and singularity of focus that Dr. Temperance Brennan employed when trying desperately to ignore all other aspects of her existence, she'd appeared to barely notice when Dr. Sweets had arrived at the laboratory. She'd continued her scrutiny of bones and abnormalities and evidence from trace particulates that had been carefully cross-indexed to each set of remains in order to avoid talking to anyone and thinking of matters that left her feeling broken and completely alone.

Knowing that her fervent work was a necessary defense mechanism, Sweets had stood by quietly and watched the woman work—simultaneously envying her ability to compartmentalize and pitying her for relying more heavily on that coping technique than she'd ever trust her own heart.

Eventually, Sweets left to pick up something to eat in the cafeteria and took the liberty of retrieving a salad for his favorite female patient, too. He'd found her still standing on the platform immersed in her work and still oblivious to his presence. What he could not have known was that she had been acutely aware that he'd been there. As soon as he'd left the lab, Brennan had sighed heavily and squeezed her eyes shut tightly, warding off emotion that was as unwelcome as it was painful. Of course, she'd appeared completely composed and focused by the time of his return, but it had been a carefully conceived act. The weight of her worry and self-doubt were heart-crushing. She could barely breathe.

When Sweets returned, he cleared his throat to get her attention, and she surprised him by responding quickly. When he offered her the salad, it took sheer will for her not to break down with the simple realization that Booth would have done precisely the same thing had she not wounded him so deeply and sent him away again. Banishing thoughts of the man who appeared to be commandeering most of her brain activity these days, Brennan accepted the salad gratefully and motioned that Sweets should accompany her to her office. What she could not have known was that the cracks in her normally indestructible shell were clearly visible to the younger man. Struck by the tears Brennan blinked back when he'd offered her the food, Sweets decided that he had done the right thing by coming over to check on her and by waiting for her to acknowledge his presence.

Once inside the room, Brennan moved quietly to her office and opened the plastic container holding her salad. She took a deep breath and thanked Sweets for the gesture, admitting that she was indeed hungry. Realizing her need for calm and quiet, Sweets smiled and nodded and then immersed himself in the files he'd brought with him. Grateful that the man was not probing about her innermost thoughts—most of which were troubling to her in ways she had no capacity to manage, Brennan ate silently and checked her phone and e-mail, saddened by the absence of contact from the man she'd sent away earlier.

Albeit distressed by Dr. Sweets' calm, continued presence in her office, Brennan's curiosity drew her over to sit on the sofa with him as he worked. She awkwardly offered him sympathy about the package he'd received and listened half-heartedly as he explained how he felt. She was too distracted by her own problems to give his enough attention.

When she asked him what he was doing, he told her that he was looking through Booth's old files from a new viewpoint. He explained—aching for the intelligent woman before him when she winced when he said her partner's name—that he had told Booth that he was now convinced that the perpetrator they were seeking was likely the only child of someone Booth put away before he began working with Brennan. Sweets went on to explain that the Taker (as he had come to be known) had most likely been abused by his father and become a serial killer as a way of trying to understand his or her father's abnormal behavior. Sweets had brought with him the files for serial killers who had kids and spouses. Eager to pursue any lead toward the truth, Brennan took several of the files and began reviewing them. The pair worked silently and diligently to review those files more closely.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Across town that evening, Booth sat at the Founding Fathers leaning heavily on the bar. He'd tried unsuccessfully to drink enough to distract himself from his worries. Now he was just aiming to keep the edge off his frustration and worry. Drinking alone clearly wasn't healthy or helpful, but Bones—in a reported attempt to help him—had insisted upon working late at the lab.

Given what had transpired between them that morning, Booth realized that her avoidance was precisely what they both needed. He ached with the memory of her warmth and the feel of her skin lighting fires on his own, but he had to plow through and move on. She'd practically shoved him on his way. He wanted to go see her, yell at her, hold her, beg her to reconsider, but he knew that neither of them could have handled another confrontation—the wounds were too tender and too fresh. So, even though he'd cursed her stubbornness and still thought she was lying to him, he'd known that spending that evening drinking with her might only have served to ramp up his pain exponentially. So he'd double checked on her security detail and headed straight for the bar. Drinking alone was all he knew to do.

He sat there grimacing miserably as he listened to Ben Harper's "Walk Away" tinkle its melancholy from the speakers overhead. Never before had lyrics captured his mood so perfectly. Walking away was the last thing he wanted to do, but it seemed to be the only option Bones would allow him to consider. Booth turned and nodded to the bartender. He needed more liquid courage to make the decision that walking away was the right thing to do. He'd never do that willingly, but he'd reached his breaking point with Bones. He couldn't pretend that touching her, kissing her, professing his feelings for her hadn't meant everything; he was slowly realizing that the fact that she could do that—that she could pretend that those few moments of abandon hadn't meant more to her-might actually mean she'd never change her mind about them.

Ordering another drink seemed the best course of action—the only thing he could do in that moment.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

In an irony too blatant to be ignored, a beautiful woman settled on the barstool next to Booth. Nodding to acknowledge him and to provide a silent greeting, Patterson refilled his now empty glass and then drank from it quickly. Then she refilled it again and slid it over to him. Smirking at her and the situation, Booth tossed back the drink and poured another.

They sat there for a long time silently polishing off a decent portion of the bottle the bartender had left parked nearby. Her presence spoke volumes. His silent acceptance of it said more.

The metaphoric vise around his heart tightened miserably as the reality of his current situation sank in. He poured another double shot and downed it without even wincing.

_**[A/N: If you're not too angry with me to read this, Ben Harper's "Walk Away" really is amazing. I think it captures the essence of the struggle Bones and Booth face. With anyone else, in any other relationship, cutting ties and walking away would be the only course of action. But they're bound together in a way that makes severing ties unacceptable. And that leaves them in a crazy, angst-filled place since they haven't navigated how to wind up together and happy.**_

_**I wanted to let you know that I realize that this chapter has done serious damage to the progress these two were making and that some of you are flat out angry about it. This isn't just some crazy plot device to keep them apart. Well, that's what it's doing, but it's not thrown in here just for kicks. That near-miss with Bones and Booth was not a meaningless one. I struggled with this whole middle of this story for a long time and tried to go other routes—especially because I know that, like me, some of you are really struggling with what's going on with the TV show and don't want to have to relive that on any level. However, this part of the story—like several others-simply demanded to stay in despite my long struggles with it. I've learned that fighting the storyline that demands to be told doesn't work—not for me.**_

_**Things are going to be bumpy and you won't like all of what happens, but please know that the honest acceptance of their thoughts and feelings and their attempts to discuss them were genuine. They really do love each other, and neither of them is being a jerk intentionally. I hope I haven't made you hate both of them. They're both terrified, and they're actually very much alike in the way that they avoid or run from the close calls they have with one another. But there's a plan here—and more story to unfold. Remember when I said the core of this idea was written last year? Yeah… it's true.**_

_**That said, feel free to rant or yell or stop reading. Your comments thus far have been terrific, and I'm eager to hear what you think—no matter what it is!]**_


	14. Chapter 14

_**[A/N: I don't own Bones or its characters.]**_

**Chapter 14: The Distress in the Doctor**

Later that evening, case files spread in piles around them, Sweets turned to Dr. Brennan and finally asked her how she was holding up. She surprised him by confessing that she and Booth had disagreed vehemently about something important. Revealing more by her confession than even she realized, she informed Sweets that she couldn't discuss the argument with him but that she was rather distressed about how to proceed after it.

Proud of her when he realized that the fact that she was willing to broach the subject at all meant that she cared for Booth deeply, Sweets encouraged her to go talk to him about it.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Emboldened by the pep talk from their psychologist, a determined Temperance Brennan strode quickly into the hallway toward Booth's apartment. On the drive over, she'd distracted herself from her fears by focusing on the conversation she'd had with Dr. Sweets. While she was convinced that the young man had absolutely no understanding of the conversation she and her partner had more than a year ago before they parted ways or of the intensity of emotion and attachment with which she'd been struggling ever since, she felt confident that he'd been right in suggesting that she talk to Booth and apologize for anything she'd done to upset him. She could almost hear Booth's voice inside her head reminding her that "That's what we do." She reminded herself that they confronted one another even when things were difficult. They didn't allow disagreements to fester. They did not lie to one another.

She realized now that what she'd done and said to Booth earlier that morning had been a virtual lie. While her words had been sincere, her allowing him to think that she did not want him the way that he wanted her had been an untruth of epic proportions. The guilt she'd hefted around all day plus the way she'd ached to rush to him all day to request that he forget that entire conversation ever happened had helped her realize that she owed Booth the truth. If he was too frustrated by her ambivalence or if he had decided that she had been correct in pushing him away, she'd deal with that. But she couldn't face the future knowing that she'd sacrificed her need to be truthful with the one person who mattered most to her. She had to talk to him, explain to him the reasons for her untruth, and make things clean. She supposed Booth could help her make that expression correct and explain it to her. _Oh how she longed to talk with him about anything… about everything._

On the way up the stairs, she'd begun rehearsing words she thought might encourage Booth to invite her in to talk. She knew that he had to be angry with her and that he was likely to be surly and send her away. She needed to rely upon the depth of her knowledge of him to ensure that he welcomed her with his heart instead of with his temper. Even convinced that she knew him better than anyone else, she was still intimidated by the enormity of the challenge that facing him now presented.

Caught up in her own weighty thoughts, Brennan almost walked through the security guards standing watch outside Booth's door.

After her typically awkward apology to people whose names she could not remember, she informed the men that she needed to speak with her partner. Unphased by the confused glance the men exchanged, she stepped closer, clearly expecting them to part to allow her access to knock on the door. Surprised when they did not remove themselves from her path, she stared at them impatiently.

The younger man who looked most familiar pulled her gently by the arm so that they were standing farther down the hallway. As he moved her, she puzzled trying to remember his name—or at least why she should know who he was. She did not find an answer. She'd considered that detail too immaterial to commit to memory. This was one of those times during which Booth would have whispered to her and given her clues about how she knew this man.

The young agent looked at her sympathetically. She did not understand his expression. Booth was the one who read people. _She had to talk to Booth._

"Dr. Brennan, now is not a good time," the man began tentatively, bracing for an argument.

"Agent...," she paused, hoping that he'd remind her of his name.

"Warren Benton, Dr. Brennan. We've met."

"Of course, Agent Benton. I remembered you—just not your name. Keeping me away is not necessary. I'm sure that Booth told you not to allow any visitors. He and I did have an argument earlier today—perhaps he suggested that he did not want to see me."

"Dr. Brennan..."

"Even if he gave you an order, Wallace. He'll still see me. We're partners. I need to talk to him. It's urgent that I speak with Agent Booth. I'll intervene on your behalf if he gets angry. I'll assure him that I demanded to be let into his apartment."

Pleading with the other agent for assistance, Wallace shot him a glance. Realizing that acting was necessary, Travis Bulloch joined the conversation.

"Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth is indisposed at the moment."

"Is he intoxicated? It's irresponsible of you to allow him to drink too much. He has work to do. Did you make coffee...?" she asked even as she stepped around the agent toward Booth's door.

"Dr. Brennan, he...," Bulloch began.

But the sound of something... of someone crashing against the wall inside Booth's apartment squelched any further sound in the hallway.

Hoping to reassure her and send her home as quickly as possible, Benton rushed around and spoke loudly enough to cover some of the sound coming from the apartment.

"The apartment is secure, Dr. Brennan. Booth did stop by the bar tonight, but he's not incapacitated. It's just not a good time. Why don't you go home? I'll tell Booth that you stopped by. I'll ask him to call you, okay?"

As the agents exchanged another look of desperation, the reality of the situation finally dawned upon a now-stricken anthropologist. Bulloch felt as if he'd been kicked in the gut as he watched the reality wash over the shaken woman before him.

After clearing her throat and standing up straighter, Dr. Temperance Brennan spoke in a voice that nearly disguised her torment, "Please do not disturb Booth. In fact, there's no need for you to tell him that I came by. I... I will contact him tomorrow to discuss the case."

Another loud noise from the apartment was followed by the unmistakable laughter of her partner and a mumbled retort from his currently instantly recognizable companion. Confirmation of her earlier devastating conclusion nearly threatened her hold on her self control. "I'm sorry to trouble you gentlemen. I really must get back to the laboratory. If you'll excuse me..., good night."

Temperance could barely see the stairs as she stumbled down them blindly. She staggered to her vehicle and slipped inside, closing her eyes and crying silent tears of her own making. After wallowing in her own misery and inexplicably depleting her current supply of lacrimal fluid, a weary woman drove back across town to the laboratory.

It was only after she had parked her car and walked to the elevator for the parking garage that she remembered that she was being followed. Her stomach rolled with the reality that some agent—some stranger—had witnessed her foray to Booth's apartment and the embarrassing breakdown that followed.

Digging deeply for energy she did not expect to find, she whirled on the man as he tried to follow her onto the elevator. "Report to Deputy Director Hacker in the morning and tell him that I've requested another agent," she snarled, barely pausing to make eye contact with the man.

The man swallowed hard and tried to find words to reassure her. He'd heard the earlier radio request for an agent to follow a new 'romantic' partner for Booth. He'd been disappointed to hear one of the agents who'd seen Booth at the bar mention Patterson. "Dr. Brennan, what happens when I'm on duty like this is not something I discuss with anyone. Unless there's an attack or some threat of danger, I forget all about what I see and hear. I merely log my time and go home to fall asleep with my wife. If you really want me off your patrol, I'll ask to be reassigned. But I can assure you that is not necessary."

She stared at him, suddenly at a complete loss for words. His older, kind eyes said the things he couldn't bring himself to say, and they brought her a measure of comfort.

"I won't speak of tonight again, I promise. But what Booth did tonight was a mistake, and he knows it."

"I...," she began, but tears erupted again full force and she was powerless to contain them. She struggled desperately to do so as he spoke to her quietly. She turned her head toward the opposite wall in a vain attempt to hide the tears betraying her pain as they fell.

"I'm sorry. I know it's none of my business. My wife would smack me - I've already said too much. It's just... I respect and admire you and Booth and your partnership. I've known him for years. Those of us loyal to Booth are loyal to you, too. You're good for him. I know this case has been difficult for both of you. My heart goes out to you, Dr. Brennan. But it's easy to see that Booth's not thinking clearly right now. He'll realize that soon enough. But I know it's none of my business and you have my solemn vow that I won't speak of anything I've witnessed again," he said, letting her off the hook for responding.

After a silent elevator ride and a quiet walk to her office, the man turned to leave her alone. As he reached the doorway, he heard her whisper, "Thank you." Nodding at her sympathetically, the man walked toward the entrance to the lab to stand post until she left or until his scheduled shift replacement arrived.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

The next morning, Sweets stopped by Booth's office and walked into it uninvited just because he felt he deserved a turn doing so. "How was it?" the clueless man asked his friend.

"Excuse me?" Booth barked, horrified with what he thought the question implied.

"Don't pretend it didn't happen," Sweets replied smugly. He was determined to call Booth out and make him admit that he was happy he'd sent Brennan over to talk to him.

Booth was not amused by the expression on the younger man's face or by his intrusive questions. What business was it of Sweets what he did or whom he spent his time with? Sweets was damned nosy, but he couldn't believe the man was here in his office asking him how hot his sex with Patterson had been.

"It happened. I'm not pretending it didn't," Booth replied, ready for the inevitable showdown of wills this conversation would ignite.

"Well, how was it?" Sweets asked again, repeating his unfortunate choice of words for that question.

"None of your damned business," Booth growled, starting to get angry.

"I beg to differ. It's entirely my business," Sweets responded as he dared to walk farther into Booth's office.

"Look, Sweets, just because I had a "moment" in your office yesterday doesn't mean..."

Emboldened by the success he thought he'd had, Sweets interrupted him, "Did you two talk?"

"In a manner of speaking," Booth replied, indirectly admitting to his evening's entertainment with Patterson.

"You fought?" Sweets asked in surprise.

"No. There was no fighting," Booth said in frustration.

"So you reconciled," Sweets observed, thinking they both were talking about Bones coming over and talking to Booth about their argument.

"More than once," Booth finally admitted, raising an eyebrow at the younger man and daring him to probe for more information.

"I see," Sweets replied. He did not understand Booth's response at all. "Fine, as long as you talked, I don't need to know the details. She'll tell me when I see her."

"Don't you dare!" Booth raged, horrified by the thought that Sweets might approach Patterson for details about their time together.

"It's my duty to know how you two are getting along."

"How do you figure that, Sweets?"

"Agent Booth, don't play dumb with me. I've been following you two for years."

"Sweets, enough of the mind trip. What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and Dr. B., of course."

"Bones?"

"Yes... What...? What are YOU talking about?"

Booth rushed around the desk and grabbed Sweets by the collar. It was slowly dawning on the psychologist that he might have not been communicating clearly with the agent.

"Tell me what you know," Booth demanded.

"Dr. B. was upset last night. I encouraged her to go talk to you. You said you talked."

"Oh, God."

"What?"

"When was this?"

"Last night. Wait... You didn't talk to her?"

"No."

"Well... what have you been talking about? Oh..."

"Oh, God." Booth released Sweets and walked across the room only to start pacing frantically.

Booth's horror told Sweets more than enough about their miscommunication. "I'm guessing she might have heard you say that last night. Am I right?"

With Sweets' last word, Booth turned to face him and froze in place, fury on his face, "One more word out of you, and I will break you into tiny pieces and mop the floor with what's left of you."

"So you... and Patterson?"

"Yeah," Booth replied, pausing mid-pace to scrub his palms over his face.

"Agent Booth. Why? Why now?"

Booth stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. He considered his response for a few moments and then spoke as honestly with his psychologist as he could, "Bones... Look, some stuff I will not discuss with you happened... And she told me to date Fallon."

"O... K...?"

"I didn't want to... I was just drinking..."

"And Agent Patterson took advantage?"

"Not exactly."

"Yeah. I can imagine."

The reality of what Bones must have discovered the night before hit Booth again full force. He pushed off the wall and started for the door to his office, "Bones... Oh, man... I've got to see her."

"See me about what?" an apparently completely composed Brennan asked from the doorway. She hadn't slept, had lost the breakfast she tried to eat, and felt as if her knees were trembling so much that they should be knocking together. But she had known that she needed to confront Booth and clear the air between them so that they could remain partners and friends. Holding herself together had proven taxing beyond what she'd expected, but Booth was worth it. She would do this for him.

Sweets left the office so quickly that neither Booth nor Bones could believe it. Booth stumbled trying to find the right words. "Look, Bones. We should talk."

"About what? Your sexual relationship with Patterson? There's nothing to discuss."

"Bones," he pled with her to stop putting up a front with him. He could see that she was emotional and that she was just fighting damned hard to hide it.

Brennan swallowed back her angst and kept her dialogue crisp and clean, "I'm proud of you, Booth. You don't usually adapt so quickly to change."

"Bones." He seemed limited to speaking her name and wishing that she knew what saying it to her now cost him.

Brennan shrugged as if her own heart hadn't been shattered by last night's events. She was here to make it clear to Booth that she could live with him dating Patterson as long as he'd continue to be her partner, "It is true that most men seem programmed to adapt more quickly to sexual stimulation than to other stimuli."

Her damned discipline and rigidity made him angry. He didn't want to talk to the Bones she showed the public and whose shell she hid so well behind, "I wasn't adapting. I was..."

"Releasing endorphins, I know. I heard you," she sniped.

"Oh, God. Bones..." Dammit, why couldn't she make this easier for both of them?

Brennan gave him an icy glare, "Given the sounds of coming from your apartment, I'd surmise that you and Agent Patterson released more than just emotional frustrations last night."

"Bones, don't..."

"I'm happy for you," she interrupted in a completely defensive mood. How could he argue with her sincere congratulations?

"You know that she's not the one I want," Booth finally found the words to whisper.

Her moment of weakness was carefully camouflaged by her lifting a well practiced set of emotional armor, "Your moans would contradict that statement and indicate otherwise, Booth."

Anger flashed and he spoke with less restraint than he'd intended. He knew she was hurting, but he hurt too badly to stop the reply, "Cut it out, Bones."

"I hope you'll be happy with her."

"Look, Bones. I was drunk. She was there. I didn't make a conscious choice to pursue her. It just happened."

She glared at him.

"Hey, don't look at me like I'm some kind of loser making excuses or something. I'm a grownup. I slept with Fallon. I'm a guy. I'm single. Hell, I may even sleep with her again! I make my own choices. I just need you to know that I didn't do any of this to hurt you."

She scoffed as if she "didn't know what that meant," "Hurt me? Why would it?" she asked in a way that was almost convincing.

Booth wasn't buying her charade, and he was nearly frazzled enough to call her bluff right there with his office door wide open. "Because we were close, Bones. We were this close," he said, gesturing with his thumb and forefinger to indicate a very small distance. Realizing the need for a bit of discretion, he moved closer to her and whispered to her in a way that made her feel as if her own bones had disappeared entirely from her now shaky body, "Because I could have kissed you yesterday until you gave in. Because part of you still wants me to..."

"Booth," she whispered, her own enormous brain reeling from the thoughts and emotions and need for him running through it. Yet again, fate intervened with a kick in the proverbial gut.

"Seriously, Seeley? A tail? Already? Are you nuts?" an angry Patterson ranted as she rushed into Booth's office without paying attention to the argument raging within. "Oh... Dr. Brennan," she said quietly, looking as if she wanted to crawl into a hole or rush right back out of the room.

"Agent Patterson," Brennan replied calmly. Too calmly. Booth watched her compartmentalize and restore her carefully constructed armor of calm detachment.

"I... I'll come back," Patterson insisted as she turned to leave.

"No. Stay. I was just congratulating Booth on your decision to pursue a sexual relationship. If you're here for what they call 'a quickie,' I can leave..."

"Bones!" Booth squawked.

"Booth, we're all adults. You two are engaging in coitus. Don't be a prude."

"I am not a prude!" Booth insisted before he realized that he didn't want to look either woman in the eye after blurting that out.

"The sounds you emitted in your apartment last night would support that hypothesis," a wound up Brennan replied quickly.

"Bones!"

"You were THERE?" Patterson asked in horror.

A weary Brennan pretended she wasn't talking about the precise moment when her heart had been crushed completely, "I came by to check on Booth. It became obvious that he was already being taken care of."

Booth turned a brighter shade of red as Patterson stood there gawking at Brennan. Booth had to do something. He couldn't handle being in the same room with both of them right then, "Fallon, can you give us a minute?"

"Sure."

Brennan was even more eager to extricate herself from this horribly uncomfortable situation, "No. I have to get to the lab. I just wanted to wish you two well."

"Thank you," Patterson replied eagerly.

"Bones, stay. We need to talk," Booth cajoled.

In her haste to remove herself from the room, Brennan said more than she should have in front of Patterson. She turned to Booth and spoke sincerely, "Thank you for moving on as I requested. For the sake of our partnership."

"Wait? You asked him to move on? With me?" Patterson asked in total confusion.

"Yes. I merely suggested that you were sexually compatible and that he should ask you out. Don't be offended. With your considerable skills and appearance, he'd have reached that conclusion eventually. I just helped him along."

"I'm sure," a befuddled Patterson responded. She just couldn't figure Brennan out. The woman was a mountain of contradictions.

Starting to feel her composure slipping, Brennan made her move to leave, "Well, congratulations. I really must go."

"Bones," Booth surprised her by grabbing her forearm to stop her from leaving. They both immediately flinched from the contact. She surprised him by putting her hand down upon his and squeezing it tenderly.

"Be happy, Booth. It's what I've always wanted for you," she turned to leave, and he begrudgingly let her go.

"Take care of him," she said softly to Patterson, echoing the woman's words to her from days before.

"I will," a grateful Patterson replied in a way that seemed genuine and not at all full of the gloating Temperance had expected.

Brennan gripped Patterson's arm and leaned in close, "If you hurt him again, I will cause you bodily harm."

Drawing upon her considerable self-control and endless years of compartmentalizing her emotions, Brennan left the building and drove back to the Jeffersonian. Once safely inside her locked office, she turned her back to the door and let her tears fall, hating the fact that they were now her only companion.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After Brennan left with her composure crumbling, a stunned Booth stared after her. Patterson swallowed hard and walked over to him. "Do I still have a reason to be shadowed, Seeley? Is this... is this thing between us still going on? I'm a cop—not a bimbo off the street who can't protect herself. Call off my tail if you don't want this going any further."

"Fallon, I don't want to mislead you here."

"I know you love her," she said softly. That got his attention. He looked at her for a long moment, surprised by how bluntly she'd made that statement.

He found himself unable to deny what he could not voice to the woman who'd just left his office, "I do. I've been in love with her for years."

"Well, she's not as smart as people think. I've been there and passed on a shot with you. All these years later, it's my biggest regret. You're a good man, Seeley. You're the whole package. Your big heart makes you even hotter than your body. You're the one nobody should let get away. If she's not smart enough to try, I want to take a shot."

Her choice of words hit him hard. Bones had turned down his request that she "take a shot" with him, "But Fallon..."

"I get it. You already gave your heart to her. It's not available to me yet. So I'll settle for your body and your mind. Hopefully your heart will follow. Sex was never complicated for us, Seeley. It was just hot. It's still spectacular. And we get along. I like spending time with you, and I like to think it's mutual. That's all I'm asking for. Time, sex, a chance—take a chance on us, Seeley. Fate might have brought us back together for a reason."

"I'm afraid it's not that simple."

"It is for me. I saw your name on that request for a shadow, and I dropped everything just for a chance to see you again. I'm here, Seeley—however you'll take me."

"I can't offer you all of me. I haven't been able to let go."

"Well, use me to make her jealous. Or use me to buy time. Or spend time with me for sex alone. I'm in—whatever you want from me. I'll back away if she gives you the slightest chance. No pressure here. No strings."

"No strings? Really?" Booth didn't believe she'd really allow things to be that simple.

"Well," she said seductively, slipping her arms around his neck and pulling his lips closer to hers, "I do have some lingerie that's mostly just strings."

"Really?" he asked with a small smile. The thought was intriguing.

"Really."

He looked down at her, lust mingling with other emotions swimming in those pools of chocolate as his grin grew even wider, "I guess a few strings wouldn't be bad."

"No?"

"I hope you brought them along."

"I packed them with you in mind."

"I'll look forward to investigating them thoroughly tonight."

"Not as much as I will." She leaned up and kissed him. And in so doing, she allowed him to confirm that he still remained interested in giving them a chance.

She smiled up at him, relief and excitement evident on her beautiful face, "Call me tonight. I'm headed to ATF for a meeting with the liaison to the bureau."

"You're getting a job over there?"

"Just something temporary—an interagency rotation—looks good on the resume, and it's a way to stay here in DC and help you unofficially while we give this thing a go."

"You're serious?"

"About you? I always have been. You're worth the risk."

After she'd reassured him physically how committed she was to him, Patterson had left for her meeting. Booth stood frozen in place for a few moments trying to digest the insanity of the conversations he'd just been part of. It was a lot to process.

But when his thoughts shifted from the advances of his lover to his partner, he realized there was something he needed to do quickly.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth rushed into Sweets' office without knocking. Unlike the other fifty-six times that had happened, Sweets had been waiting for him to show up.

"I need you to check on Bones," Booth said in as commanding a tone as he could muster.

Sweets had already made plans to check on his other patient, but he wasn't going to make things easy for Booth. It was obvious that Booth was taking the easy way out, and he refused to help him avoid facing his own feelings, "You know Dr B. is resistant to visits from me. She's quite independent."

"Go. Over. There. Now!"

"Fine. On one condition."

Booth just stared at him.

"Are you really dating Patterson?"

Booth glared at the man but decided to answer. He needed him to cooperate and check on Bones for him, "Yeah."

"Do you really think that's wise?" Sweets asked in a voice that made Booth want to punt him out of his own office. He opted to rant loudly instead, "I don't know! Probably not."

"Why do it then? Why complicate your life more than it is already? This might be time for you to face your unresolved feelings about your partner..."

Booth's angry outburst came from a need to understand his own actions as much as a need to make them clear to his psychologist, "Because SHE wants a shot with me! Because she's here. Because she's a good lay—no, a great one. Because the woman I want won't let me in. Because I'm sick of feeling like a set of bones in Limbo. Because I need to move on. You were wrong. I gave up gambling years ago, Sweets. I don't want to gamble anymore. I'm tired of waiting for someone who clearly doesn't want me."

"Agent Booth..."

Booth raised his hand to stop the man from speaking. He'd already said too much. He was not going to discuss matters with Bones with Sweets. "Look Sweets, you're not getting any more from me. And you're not gonna harass Bones, either. Just check on her. Let me know if I can do anything for her."

"I'll check on her. But I know already that Dr. Brennan knows her own heart. And she knows to whom it belongs. She just doesn't trust herself to follow it."

"I'm not talking to you about this, and I can't talk to her—not about this. But I have to know that she's not feeling abandoned and left alone, Sweets. I promised her she wouldn't be left alone."

"I understand. Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Follow your heart. I'm not judging you or what you're doing. But if you have to make any decisions, follow your heart."

Booth stood and looked down at the man for a long moment before nodding and saying quietly, "Yeah."

Sweets stood up and left the office. Still reeling, a flabbergasted Booth sat down on Sweets' sofa lost in thought.

_**[A/N: Be angry with him. Be very angry with him, but please don't hate Booth. I know he shouldn't be doing this, but he is a man, and he's just been rejected brutally by Bones for the **__**second**__** very painful time. And this case is making him crazy. And he's a man. And she's there. **_

_**If you can stand to do so, try to cut Booth a little slack. He wouldn't have even looked twice at Patterson had Bones not sent him packing after kissing him like that. Promise!**_

_**And try not to hate Bones, either. She's just completely floored by the enormity of her feelings for him and her ability to hurt him. She's really trying so very hard to do what's right for him.**_

_**Me? Me, you can hate. This is my fault—not theirs. And I'm the one who's rapidly running out of written words to explain the other ideas I have for this story. Yeah. I'm the one you can be frustrated with. It's okay. I'm expecting it. I probably deserve it. Yell. Call it crap. Tell me I'm crazy (politely, of course). Your comments always inspire me. Always.**_

_**FYI—Really busy week will seriously limit my time online, but I'm sure I'll pop on to see if I've been banned or not. I'll try to respond to reviews and attempt to finish the next chapter (if anyone's still reading) next week sometime.]**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**[By all means, hate Patterson. I do. She's been wreaking havoc on this story for a very long time. Too long. I've disliked her longer than you have.**_

_**I do so appreciate all the feedback. You're tougher than I imagined. I know that this is a tough time to be reading this stuff. Those of you who raved about that chapter might be a bit looney-but I'm extremely grateful anyway. Those of you not buying Booth's behavior? I can definitely see your point. All of you who read and reviewed or alerted? You have my utmost gratitude for your time and your patience with this story. There are so many reviews I should respond to, but life is so busy these days, I can't manage it. Maybe soon.**_

_**I'm not sure I'm doing enough to explain Brennan's thoughts in these chapters. I'm working on it, but I'm not sure I held onto this one long enough to do her feelings justice. But giving you a longer version of this painful read might be cruel. So I'm stopping and hoping that I can clean up unresolved problems in coming chapters. If you need to know more about Brennan's feelings, look at her actions. I'm hoping they speak loudly in this chapter even though her words seem to conflict with them at times.**_

_**Don't expect to like this chapter. But you might enjoy parts of it.]**_

Chapter 15: The Jealousy in the Jumpsuit

And like so many things that happen without being fully planned when tensions run high and would-be lovers deny the fact that they are in love, Booth started dating Patterson. Dating might not have been the perfect word for describing their highly physical relationship since the time for traditional courting and regular dating was at a minimum. Cohabitating might have been a better term, but neither of the participating parties was comfortable saying out loud that they were living together. Sleeping together was probably the best term, but neither of them spent time labeling what they were doing. They just did what they did when they weren't working or sleeping and didn't try to categorize it.

Booth had clearly found a pleasurable outlet for dealing with his rampant frustrations, and Patterson had been right—they did get along well. She was being particularly supportive and encouraging to him at a time when that meant even more than it normally would. And, outside the bedroom, she hadn't made demands on him or tried to label what they were doing as anything more than dusting off things between them and giving them a chance. Booth was in cruise mode with the relationship—it was the one part of his life that he could enjoy riding along on autopilot at the moment.

Given the fact that Patterson's continued presence in Washington no longer met the criteria for them to provide her with "temporary housing," she'd been required to vacate her Bureau-provided apartment when she'd taken another longer- term assignment at a related agency, Booth had helped her move her belongings in - without starting a real discussion about the move or what it might mean. In truth, he refused to consider what anything he was doing with Patterson might mean. Those thoughts threw him into a tangle of emotions he couldn't manage. They made him consider how what he was doing wasn't intentional and focused enough to do justice to the woman sharing his bed. More significantly, those thoughts also made him worry about the toll his "relationship" was having on his friendship and his partnership with Bones. Thinking of Bones made his gut ache and his head hurt. So, he took the easy way out and tried to think of her only in partnerly terms. That was becoming easier than it could have been because Bones had returned him squarely to the safety of that well-worn box where he'd existed for so many years.

Work had led to a series of more frustrating dead-ends. Attempt after attempt had been made to find additional links among the cases, but discernible patterns and theories kept evaporating or eluding them -nothing took hold or showed any real promise. The team had covered every possible angle to try to identify the serial killer and come up empty. From their respective angles, Booth and Bones kept working diligently, but even the highly skilled, ridiculously successful team appeared to be stymied. Neither of them would voice the reality that their failure to discover a break in the case might have something to do with the fact that they now worked in separate offices and no longer shared other than critical information or brainstormed ideas about the case.

After two weeks had passed, the bureau stopped its lockdown of potential victims. Slowly and methodically, the agency assigned additional staff to monitor them and follow them when they traveled. Parker's teacher was suddenly assigned a student teacher to share in the workload, and a new coach "volunteered" to help with the baseball team. The students didn't realize that their new teacher had a holster at her ankle and a small handgun hidden in the waist of her jeans or that the coach was also sporting a sidearm. Michelle had a new "boyfriend" who picked her up after each class and accompanied her all over campus. Other such "escorts" were assigned to the civilians who needed an undercover agent watching them—full blown armed guards followed the FBI and Jeffersonian staff everywhere.

Booth could barely make himself go over to the lab to be shunned or ignored by his partner. Brennan couldn't endure being in the same room with her partner knowing who warmed his bed at night. Sure, it had been her idea that he date the woman—her direct suggestion, but she didn't have to like it. And she didn't. Rational or not, logical or not, she felt betrayed by Booth's alliance with this other woman who had hurt him—with someone else who had broken his heart besides her. Had she been able to approach the situation from Sweets' discipline, she might have asked herself if she were just angry that Booth hadn't demanded that **she** be the one with whom he pursued a relationship after she'd broken his heart. Of course, that would have, in turn, required her to admit that he had, in fact, made such a demand—and that she'd turned him away again. As much as she tried to deny that she had them, such thoughts brought added pain because they reminded her that she had been the one to turn away from Booth. Nevermind that she'd done it to protect him - to protect them. She'd made the decisions that had pulled them apart and left feelings of doubt and pain drowning the plethora of sexual tension and secret love they'd both harbored for years. Temperance did not often make mistakes, and she rarely acted in ways to hurt others, so she was unaccustomed to feeling the guilt that now weighed down upon her. She now felt a physical dread about seeing her partner, and a near-nausea when faced with his lover. The whole matter only increased her distaste for and disapproval of psychology. She needed to stop allowing herself to feel the situation and just stick to the facts and the data even if she hated what they told her.

Booth called or e-mailed every day and stopped by the lab every few days for a brief visit. She'd told him of new particulates and trace evidence Hodgins was working to identify on more of the sets of remains in order to link all of the murders to the same location. Talking to her that long about the case had been exhausting because Bones just wasn't his Bones anymore. She'd been cold and clinical and scientific the entire time they'd spoken. He understood it, but he couldn't endure more of Bones' cold shoulder than that. She often replied to his messages with requests that he not come by to interrupt her work and reassurances that she would call him when she had discovered pertinent information. Her brush-offs hurt him as much as his attempts at indifference to her obvious distress broke her heart. The pergatory following his last overture to her was nothing compared with the raw hell of the current pain between them. Neither of them seemed to know how to reach out to the other without drawing metaphorical blood. Things between them were tenuous, painful, no longer symbiotic.

Booth had asked Angela to keep an eye on Bones for him, and she had very colorfully told him where he should shove his phone calls to check on a woman whose heart he had crushed. She was furious with him and refused to talk to him. "Why should I reassure you that she is fine—so that you can go screw Agent Patterson without feeling guilty? Not happening, Booth. You should feel like crap. You know that you're screwing everyone over by falling into bed with that slutty..."

"Ange...," he interrupted in warning.

"If the cheaply made shoe fits..."

"Cut it out. We're talking about Bones here."

"No, we're not. You were there for me when I needed a friend, but that does not give you a free pass. If not knowing how Brennan's doing makes the guilt worse for you, then I'm silent on the subject - as in not talking. Check on her yourself, Booth. She won't admit it, but she misses you."

Cam had been similarly uncommunicative when he'd approached her. With a slight shake of her head, she'd told him she was not going to help him or to intervene at all.

Desperate to check on Bones even though he no longer felt entitled to that right, Booth had even invited Hodgins out for a drink and sought his help. "Sorry, man. I enjoy sex. I am not giving that up for you. Angela will know. I'm not crossing her and causing problems for us."

"But you work with her, Hodgins. I just need to know how she's doing. She tells me she's fine, but she looks tired all the time. And she's freezing me out-she won't talk to me except about the case. How's she doing? Is there anything I can do?"

"I know you don't want to talk to me or to anyone else about what you and Dr. Brennan have pretended wasn't going on between you for years. You should have told her how you felt years ago. I've been there. I know how hard that is and how easily things can get screwed up, man. But you chickened out too many times, and now you're following a different path—the wrong one, in my opinion. I know we guys are programmed to want it that way, but you can't have it both ways. If you want to know how she's doing, man up and talk to Dr. Brennan yourself. You know she won't tell us what she's feeling. You're her emotional filter, and she's lost that. She won't even talk to Ange about things."

Hodgins' words hit Booth as hard as if he'd slammed him against a wall.

Booth's silence spoke volumes.

"Sorry, man. It stinks to be you right now, I know. Even with the leggy blonde to distract you and lick your wounds. We're all there for her. Dr. B's not alone. She misses you, man. She... her eyes don't light up the way they used to. But she's dealing - or not dealing - the only way she knows how. Ange and I stayed friends and found each other again. I know you and Dr. B will figure something out. We'll all be there for her until you two can get back to being friends again."

"Thanks, Jack," Booth said, motioning to the bartender to buy his friend another drink and paying the tab for both of them.

"Whew...," Hodgins said in relief. "So, you're not gonna choke me for saying you chickened out?"

"You just used your only "Get out of jail free" card, Mr. Squint."

Hodgins laughed and Booth smiled at him. Then he stood up and patted the man on the back. Booth left the scientist to finish his drink, wishing that he still felt he had the right to go to the lab and talk to his partner and missing her more than he could admit to anyone—even to himself.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Weeks later, with icy relations between the partners still the norm, Patterson left town for an assignment for a week. While she was out of town, the partners were called because another body had been found. While things were awkward and Booth practically had to hogtie Bones to convince her to ride with him to the crime scene, they managed to work the scene, collect the evidence, and return it to the lab. At least that part of their partnership was working since all other aspects of it were shaky at best.

Hearts still aching in the silence only the two of them could hear, the partners worked long hours and made slow progress on the new case, hoping it would lead to the break that had been eluding them. Both of them were fighting hard to find something that would give them new ideas about how to track down The Taker. Linking the bodies to The Taker was never a challenge. Moving beyond that to any new leads seemed virtually impossible. The last body had been missing a brain and a heart—presumably the brain sent to Dr. Sweets had belonged to this victim. Although the level of decomposition among the bodies varied greatly, Brennan began formulating a new theory that still linked the brain to this latest victim. She was just waiting for the test results to confirm what she already suspected.

Over the next few days, Booth found himself edgy about finding a break in the case and at loose ends with an empty apartment to go home to, so he took the bold step of spending more time at the lab stalking Bones for news on the case. As frustrated as she was by his hovering and rampant speculation, Brennan found that she missed him so terribly that she didn't have the heart to dismiss him.

Brennan found her brain functioning like a videocamera at odd moments during that week. Booth's smile, his looks of confusion or frustration with scientific terms he needed her to explain, his weary sighs and the way he rubbed his hands across his face as if to remove his exhaustion were new memories to remind her how well she knew this man who now seemed untouchable. She hated the way her heartrate peaked when he made a joke or explained an expression to her. For rare moments, they returned to the intimacy of their long-term relationship. It was as if each forgot momentarily the damage that had been done. In camera mode, she recorded still images of Booth sprawled comfortably on her couch, jacket discarded, tie askew, muscled forearms showing beneath rolled up shirt sleeves, Cocky belt buckle gleaming, and wacky socks proclaiming that the man it hurt to observe was still the same man even though he seemed less approachable and less her partner these days. She cursed the emotions she felt when he ordered food for her without asking what she wanted and when he gave up his seat so that she could relax and be more comfortable. The night she fell asleep on the sofa and woke up as he gently placed his jacket over her to keep her warm, she shed silent tears as she fell into a fitful sleep.

The more time they spent together, the more comfortable they became despite the pain that comfort brought to each of them. As in the early years of their partnership, they ate late takeout meals at the lab before parting and going their separate ways. Brennan's heart was so much lighter on those evenings, and she could tell that Booth seemed relieved that they could return to some semblance of "normal." What neither of them could fully comprehend was that their reconnection was an even more perfect confirmation of gravity's existence than the apple that had fallen on Sir Isaac Newton's head long ago.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

The day Patterson returned to town, she had been surprised to find a note saying that Seeley was at the lab. Deciding to surprise him even though it might not be the wisest move, she headed over to the lab to meet him. She'd missed him. She wanted him. She couldn't wait to show him how much. Fortunately, she met Dr. Saroyan in the lobby on her return from lunch, and she didn't have to call him or get an escort into the laboratory.

What Patterson saw when she entered the sterile workspace hurt more than she'd have admitted to anyone. Booth and Brennan sat across the table from one another, leaning close in that intimate way they no way of knowing was so obvious an indication of their attraction. She watched as Brennan spoke with animation and excitement about something she'd discovered. Booth was perched on the edge of his seat, clearly captivated, amused, and dazzled by the genius of whatever his partner was saying. She said something funny and they both laughed. He leaned in, cocked an eyebrow, and said something quiet-likely something inappropriate or a bit off color. She grinned at him and joined in the mischief. Body language betraying hearts longing in silence, the partners sat lost in the world that so often claimed them, unwittingly showing anyone watching them how strong and vital their intricate bond still was. As they had countless times at the diner and at the bar and in the field or at his place or hers, they'd gotten caught up in a theory about the case and played off one another in that perfect way they always had. Each word spoken had drawn them nearer across the table, each link in the chain of the case they were building had woven them closer and closer together. Her eyes sparkled with the renewed hope that she hadn't lost her partner completely, and his warm brown eyes and brilliant smile sent hers heartfelt messages he wasn't brave enough to voice.

Aching, Patterson watched as Seeley raised his fist to Brennan for a congratulatory fist-bump. When the scientist finally condescended to cooperate and return the seemingly innocuous gesture, Booth surprised her by taking her hand in his, "This feels so good, Bones. We're back, Baby. I love it."

Overwhelmed by emotions she had no practice managing, Brennan was silent. She smiled at him—her face open and honest, tears visible in the corners of her eyes.

Hating to be the one to break the partners up but not feeling at all comfortable standing there alongside Booth's girlfriend while he had blatant eye sex with his partner, Cam spoke up. "Look who's back in town?" she asked loudly enough to intentionally spoil the moment.

Booth jumped and let Bones' hand slip from his fingers. He didn't cheat. He hadn't been cheating. But he sure felt like a guy who'd been busted for cheating. He just didn't know which woman he'd betrayed more.

The thump of her hand on the table as Booth dropped it hit Brennan like a shotgun blast. Her spine stiffened automatically. There was no way in hell she could allow Patterson to see any emotion from her at all. Emotions were fleeting, ephemeral things upon which one could not depend—as apparently had been the momentary return of her partnership with Booth to normal. She'd been foolish to allow him to penetrate the walls she'd erected around her heart. She'd opened herself up to pain. She now felt compelled to push everyone away to a distance that would ensure that nobody was close enough to wound her again.

"Hey, Seeley... Dr. Brennan... I just thought I'd stop by and see how... how the case was going now that I'm back in town. If you're busy, I can just catch up with you later," Fallon offered tentatively, her own emotions barely under control.

"I was under the impression that you were temporarily excused from FBI duty," Brennan began attempting to put Patterson on the defensive. Her hand still hurt from the way Booth's touch had warmed it moments earlier. The pain in her heart eclipsed that wound and all of her other senses in that moment.

"Bones," Booth said after clearing his throat and trying not to look like a man betraying both women, "Fallon's still with the bureau. She's still helping... unofficially. It's okay to tell her about the case. I keep her up to date." Booth was feeling extremely uncomfortable standing there with Bones on the offensive like this. They had completely avoided any conversation about his sleeping with Patterson, and he really didn't want to have his partner bring that subject up now in front of Patterson. But his discomfort quickly turned to dread as his partner continued to speak.

"I am certain that you do. But I'm not convinced that's wise, Booth," Brennan said, standing quickly and walking up to the platform to immerse herself in observing the latest victim's bones to distract herself from the way she wanted to hide somewhere much more private and lose herself in the blissful memories of observing her partner's smile and his touch just moments before.

Frustrated yet not letting her get away with blatant rudeness, Booth walked over and kissed his girlfriend briefly in greeting and then nodded for her to follow him. They arrived on the platform and stood a foot or so apart while Booth talked to his partner. Yeah, he definitely felt like a guy who'd been cheating and gotten caught. Only he clearly felt as if he'd been cheating on both of them.

Booth shot Fallon a glance to let her know that he was going to handle his partner, "Bones, Fallon is not the enemy here. The more people we have working this case, the sooner we'll finish it. She's just trying to help."

"You always taught me that it is standard practice to withhold critical information about cases from potential suspects," Brennan replied as if she were making simple small talk—not as if she were doing the unthinkable.

Booth just stared at her as if the years of working with her and dealing with her inappropriate outbursts and awkward social missteps could not possibly have prepared him for her current behavior. Determined to follow through on what she'd started, an angry Brennan continued undeterred, "We have not ruled Agent Patterson out as a suspect."

Booth bristled and moved to defend his lover, "Bones, what the hell? We haven't _**considered**_ her a suspect at all. She's not one. Back off." Patterson was too dumbfounded to begin to defend herself. She was grateful that Booth charged in to do so quickly.

"That's just it, Booth. We haven't considered her a suspect. I think that ruling her out summarily was a mistake. We have no evidence..."

"We don't need evidence that she's not the killer. Bones, you are way the hell out of line here. You owe Fallon an apology. You owe _**me**_ an apology."

"Again, Booth, I assert that the evidence supports that Agent Patterson could be The Taker. She has a past with you from long ago. She arrived suspiciously when these murders were uncovered and had been absent when the murders occurred. She left town when the latest murder was discovered. It's far more likely that she is the suspect than that she's not."

"Your genius brain must have short-circuited, Bones. Stop twisting the facts to suit your purposes. You don't like Fallon? Fine. But you don't get to be mean to her. I won't allow it, and that's not like you. What's going on here?" All the progress they'd been making had been clearly erased. Booth felt as much as saw the pain his partner was hiding. But he couldn't allow her to lash out like this. It just wasn't right.

Temperance was no coward, but she felt a strong compulsion to run down the stairs and get into her car and drive until the fuel was exchausted. Having things with Booth improve so quickly and then fall apart in an instant was horribly painful. She knew there was an edge to her voice, but she couldn't be bothered with disguising her anger-not when she realized she'd come close to letting this man infiltrate her carefully constructed barriers again, "You know that I have a strong distaste for speculation, but I will indulge you... propose an alternate theory. Perhaps her feelings for you cost her her marriage. Maybe Pete left her because he realized she still wanted to be with you." Patterson gasped audibly and looked as though she'd been slapped.

"Way out of line, Bones," Booth was furious with his partner. What he'd told her long ago about his past with Patterson had been said in confidence—not for her use as a weapon against his lover.

Knowing she was veering out of bounds and no longer caring, Brennan continued, "Or maybe she regrets the time she lost with you because she bedded her lover's best friend to avoid dealing with the fact that you were a far superior agent."

Booth rushed to his partner and yanked her arm hard, pulling her over to a corner where he could berate her in relative privacy.

"Cut it the hell out, Bones. Now!"

"You're ignoring evidence. What better way to do harm to you than by insinuating herself near you! She could kill you in your sleep, Booth."

"One more word from you, Bones, and our partnership is over!" Booth growled, his raw anger barely contained. Booth knew that he was overstepping with that threat, but he was torn by the feelings of guilt he'd had earlier and stunned by the brutality of his partner's current actions. Bones was going for the jugular. Regardless of his affection for his partner, he felt duty-bound to shut her up and stop the attack on his lover.

Brennan paused, stricken that he would make that sort of threat. She noticed that her physiological response to that statement led to an adrenaline rush, dry mouth, and initiation of the fight or flight response. She felt a simultaneous ache in her stomach and in her chest—as if both organs were being squeezed tightly by an inanimate object of great strength. She was frozen, suspended, and terrified that Booth could be driven to the point of severing their partnership—the one bond between them she'd thought would be unbreakable.

Booth hated the look on his partner's face. He knew that he'd look just as horrified if Bones ever threatened to stop working with him. He'd crossed an uncrossable line with those words. But there was no way to take them back now. He just had to plow ahead and try to pull them past this horrible situation. Grateful that she had finally shut up, he tried to reason with her, "My gut tells me Fallon's not part of this. And it's not my hormones talking, okay? I don't know what the hell set you off, but you have to stop attacking her. Hurting her hurts me, Bones. Are you trying to hurt me? Cause if you are, go ahead and take your best shot at me - just leave her the hell out of it."

He gazed down upon his partner, hating the terror he could read behind the myriad emotions swirling in those lovely aquamarine eyes of hers. He could see clearly what he'd been ignoring in order to keep his sanity. He could see now that the past week had opened up old wounds for her and that he was completely to blame for that. He felt awful realizing that he'd been having his cake and eating it, too. Easy for him to spend time with her so he'd feel less guilty about the damage to their friendship and so that he wouldn't feel lonely while his girlfriend was away. Bones must feel lonely most of the time, and he'd only made that worse by dangling their old familiar habits in front of her for a short time. It must have felt as if he'd abandoned her when he'd started spending his free time with Fallon, and it had to feel to Bones now as if he were abandoning her all over again.

Still, he was so angry with her that he didn't let himself console her. Bones had been way out of line, and she knew it. It wasn't like her to be purposefully hurtful to anyone—anyone who had not committed murder or threatened him. If he didn't do something drastic to let her know that she'd gone too far, she might do something like this again. Things were too damned difficult already. He couldn't have her attacking Patterson and making things worse.

Setting his jaw and taking a deep breath, he turned away from her. He knew that leaving her angrily would hurt her, but he didn't see any other alternative. Staying and continuing this argument might wound their partnership fatally. He couldn't willingly allow that to happen.

Brennan watched as he rushed down the platform and threw an arm around Patterson's shoulder, pulling her closer to him. The couple left, arms wrapped around one another in consolation. The lonely anthropologist retreated to her office to consider the damage she'd done.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Angela walked tentatively into Brennan's office afraid what she might find. The anthropologist was sitting on her sofa, that ceramic pig she adored so much within arm's reach. She was staring at it as if it were ancient remains.

"You okay, Sweetie?"

"No."

"What happened? Booth looked pretty angry earlier. Did you guys have a fight?"

"Yes."

"Well, I can call him and tell him to apologize if he's upset you."

"That won't be necessary."

"But Sweetie, he's upset you."

"No, he had every right to be angry."

"Well, you know I think 'angry Booth' is hot, but he can't push you around. I won't let him."

Somewhere in a remote corner of her emotion-riddled mind, Brennan realized that she should be surprised that Angela was back at the lab, "No, Ange... Wait? What are you doing here? I thought..."

"Hodgins and I are back at the lab. He's calming down a bit. He just stalks me constantly outside the lab—he's okay with giving me some space while we're here."

"He loves you," Temperance said, jealousy for her friend mingled with the other emotions she felt at that moment.

"Yeah... And we both love you. What's going on, Bren?"

Temperance sat, finally allowing the tears she'd commanded to stay hidden to fall. She looked at Jasper and was flooded with hundreds of memories of intimate moments of more than friendship with her partner. She now had another example of damage she'd done to that sacred relationship. She was afraid this had been the last, final blow to the partnership she no longer knew how to exist without, "I accused Fallon of being The Taker."

"What?"

"That's why Booth was angry."

"Oh Sweetie! What were you thinking? You knew he'd defend her... he had to. And you know she's not the murderer."

Grasping at metaphorical straws, Brennan half-heartedly pretended there's been a scientific basis for her unwelcome accusations, "I suppose my judgment was flawed. But the evidence supports the possibility..."

"Sweetie, be honest. There's more going on here than just the evidence."

"I...," Brennan began to protest but found she could not muster the energy to defend herself. Angela waited and let the woman's heart catch up with her brain.

Eventually, Temperance spoke, "I hurt him."

Impressed by her honesty, Angela realized how desperate her friend must be feeling, "Yeah. Yeah, you did. But he's a big boy. Apologize to him, Brennan. Apologize to her if you have to. You and Booth mean too much to one another not to make up after a fight."

Giving up on pretending she wasn't aching miserably, Temperance spoke honestly with her friend, "I was malicious, Angela. I meant to hurt him. I tried to drive a wedge between them."

"And you feel bad about it."

"No. Not badly enough," she replied honestly.

"Brennan..."

Relieved that she could confide in her best friend, Temperance found the courage to be completely honest, "I was jealous. I am jealous."

Wow. Holy freaking crap. Brennan was in a place Angela knew had to be terrifying for her. She had to back her friend away from the ledge and help keep her from flipping out completely, "Okay, you're used to being the only woman in Booth's life. He's been jealous before—remember the way he acted around Sully? He'll understand. Just talk to him."

"But what do I say? I can't tell HIM I'm jealous."

"He knows."

"No, he doesn't," she scoffed. "He couldn't possibly know that."

"Honey, he's a man, but he's a smart man. Booth understands. You just need to apologize and not cross that line again."

"You really think he knows that I'm jealous?"

"It doesn't matter, Sweetie."

"I disagree, Angela." Brennan got chills just considering that Booth might understand why she'd attacked his lover so blatantly. She knew that Angela suspected what was going on between them, but she'd never found a way to tell Angela about everything that had happened.

"Sweetie, this is Booth. So what if he puffs up with pride knowing you're jealous? He's your best friend. This will blow over."

"I fear that your assertion is incorrect."

"Fear? Okay, Brennan. You're skipping steps and mere mortals can't follow. Tell me why you're so upset."

"I don't know how to apologize to them... to him. What if it's not enough?"

"Just be honest with him. He might not forgive you right away, but he'll come around."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely."

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Much later that evening, Brennan knocked hesitantly on Booth's apartment door. She stood in agony as the agents watched her from down the hallway, hating the fact that they had been there to witness her humiliation the last time she'd shown up unannounced at this door. Apparently, they'd be allowed to view an even greater embarrassment for her this evening. She reminded herself that this was for Booth. There was no limit to what she'd do for him.

A few minutes after the knock, Booth answered.

"Uh... Hi, Bones," he said blushing more than a bit. His state of haphazard re-dress made it obvious that she'd interrupted sex or the aftermath thereof. He sighed uncomfortably and stood staring at her with the door open. Even though it took great restraint, he did not invite her inside.

She braced herself and forced words out with great effort, "I need to speak with Agent Patterson. I want to apologize for my actions today."

After his facial expressions registered his surprise, he nodded at her and motioned with his hand as he ushered her in. She walked across the room from him and stood ramrod straight when she turned back to face him. A disheveled Patterson wandered out into the hallway fastening her silk robe. She flinched when she saw the woman standing across the room from her lover.

Brennan was struck by the fact that not too long ago, their positions had very nearly been reversed. She'd almost been brave enough to be the woman actually having sex with the man standing uncomfortably across the room from her. Remorse made her stomach roll painfully—as it had all afternoon.

Brennan spoke before Patterson had time to greet her, "I am sincerely sorry for what I said today. I was inappropriate and hurtful. I apologize."

There was an awkward pause during which Patterson continued to stare at the woman and in which Booth looked at her with those eyes that seemed to dissect her every thought and action. He said nothing, but his expression grew softer. She could tell that he realized how much apologizing was costing her.

As she had dozens of times before, Brennan began her explanation with her most valid criteria—with the standard for her understanding of how one should deal with others, "Booth has taught me that it is most effective to accompany an apology with a gesture of goodwill. I was... I am... I realize my words were hurtful. For that I am sorry. To show my sincerity, I wanted to offer you this...," Brennan extended her arm and offered Patterson a small Styrofoam cooler by the plastic handle she'd used to carry it.

Uncertain how to react because her first instinct was that Brennan had hidden something utterly disgusting in that cooler, a frantic Patterson glanced to Booth for help. Understanding her fear, he intervened, "Bones, that's not a dead..."

"I can assure you that this container is new and has not ever been used to transport any remains."

"Oh. Okay...," Patterson said tentatively, reaching out and accepting the offered item carefully. She placed it on the coffee table and opened it slowly—still half-convinced that deadly gas would escape and slowly kill her.

"What? Seriously? How did you?" she stammered as she stared into the cooler.

"Hodgins informed me that Pat's is the original Philly cheesesteak establishment. I have been assured that it is authentic cuisine. I hope that you will enjoy this reminder of your hometown."

As Patterson reached in and pulled out the warm, delicious-smelling sandwiches and continued to ramble about them, Booth looked over at his partner, his esteem for her clear in his expression.

"Bones... you went to Philly and back today?"

"I...," Brennan began, suddenly emotional from the way that her partner was looking at her, "I felt that I owed it to both of you to apologize sincerely," she said quietly, swallowing hard and dropping her gaze to the floor. She was unaccustomed to apologizing and hated feeling this exposed and vulnerable in front of her partner and his lover.

Thrilled with the goodwill offering, Patterson opened a sandwich and took a bite, moaning with happiness from the delectable reminder of home. Barely chewing her food, she mumbled to Brennan, "Thank you so much. These are great. Seeley, they're perfect—just like back in Philly. They're still hot and fresh. Oh my God! You've gotta have one," she said, offering a sandwich to him and reaching for one to offer to Brennan.

"I'll have one in a minute," Booth said with a smile at her. "Bones must be tired from all that driving. Let me walk her out," he said, giving his partner the much needed chance to escape she'd been longing for.

In a thought-filled silence, the partners walked down the stairs and out of the building. Brennan wished desperately that Booth would just allow her to depart without forcing her to talk to him, but she knew better than to expect that to happen. As she reached for the handle on the door, he placed his strong hand upon the doorframe to hold it closed.

He looked at the agents waiting nearby and nodded for them to back off and give them some space. Then he looked down at his partner and saw her distress.

"I really am sorry, Booth," she stammered, tears filling her eyes despite her attempts to banish them. "I would never intentionally hurt you or do anything to sever our partnership."

It nearly broke his heart not to reach out and hug her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and encouraged her to look up at him because of the tenderness in his voice.

"We're okay now, Bones."

"I realize that it might take some indefinite period of time for you to forgive me..."

"Hey, it's already in our past and forgotten. I accepted your apology."

"I never meant to hurt you, Booth," she repeated, looking up at him with sincere apology on her features.

"Awwww, Bones. It's okay. Everyone makes mistakes. You're human like the rest of us."

"No. Nothing is okay."

"Bones, don't beat yourself up. When you make a mistake, you apologize, forgive yourself, and move on."

"But I don't deserve forgiveness. I... I can't forgive myself." The words she spoke were true, but she wasn't talking about not being able to forgive herself for her hurtful words that morning in the laboratory. She was talking about the fact that she'd never be able to forgive herself for walking away from him and for pushing him away.

Fortunately, Booth didn't realize her implication, yet he reached out to her anyway, "Hey, Bones. Come on. You're family to me. I can be angry with you and still care about you. We're still us. We're still partners. I'm not going anywhere."

When she did not look at all reassured, he continued, "Look, I didn't really mean it today when I said our partnership would be severed. I was angry, and I needed a way to get your attention. But nothing would end our partnership. I shouldn't have said that. I didn't mean it. I won't ever make that threat again. We're still solid. I promise."

He ached as he watch his partner exhale in relief that she'd not done permanent damage to their partnership. Normally that would have been all the emotional relief she'd need, but she was still visibly upset and worried, "And Patterson? She'll accept the fact that you're still working with me?"

"Fallon doesn't have a choice about that, Bones. Neither of you can make me choose not to spend time with the other. My partnership with you is nonnegotiable—nobody I date can stop me from working with you. And you don't get to intimidate anyone I date—not like you tried to do today. I'm not choosing between the two of you. I won't do that for either of you. You're part of my life, and you both need to deal with that."

She stood deep in thought for a few moments. He was convinced that she would say her farewell and leave immediately, but she surprised him by looking him straight in the eye and saying, "I was envious of her."

Booth swallowed hard before he looked up and into his partner's eyes again. He had suspected that jealousy of some sort might have had a role in the day's events, but he never ever had imagined that Bones would admit to it. Not on her worst day. The fact that she had told him let him know clearly that she was really upset. He softened his expression as he gazed at her, "Bones, it's okay. I've been jealous of the guys you dated before. It happens."

"It's completely irrational and invidious, but I find that… even after apologizing sincerely, I remain jealous."

"Bones..."

"I have also been withholding information from you."

"About the case?"

"No. About me... about my feelings..."

Booth felt his air supply choke off as clearly as if she'd strangled him. He struggled for air, "What are you saying, Bones?"

Surprising them both, Brennan took that very moment to tell him part of what she discovered while away on the islands. "When I was in Maluku, I found the clarity I'd been seeking. I realized during our time apart how much I need you, that I rely upon you for so much more than for FBI protection, and that I care for you... deeply." She gazed at him with such an earnest expression that she believed he had to understand what she was confessing to him.

Unable or unwilling to believe that she'd go as far as to declare any deeper feelings, Booth told her that she was just having a hard time adjusting to him moving on—that it was natural for her to feel vulnerable watching him move on even if she didn't want to be with him that way.

Seeing her flinch, he promised her that they'd always be partners. The ache of that carefully constructed separation pierced her heart anew.

After taking a moment to find the courage to lay everything out before him, she finally confessed that she needed for them to be more than partners. When tears filled her eyes, he realized that she might actually be reaching out to him in that way he'd longed for - for years.

But the moment he looked down at her with rekindled hope swirling in those deep, dark eyes, her panic about hurting him returned with renewed intensity. With his marvelously stormy brown eyes, he asked her if she was saying she wanted a relationship... a romantic one... with him. Seeing him vulnerable and exposed to her ability to cause him pain once again, she stammered, "I do."

He watched her struggle against whatever unseen demons were determined to keep them apart. "I want to be the person to whom you come home, Booth. But, I... can't."

"Bones...," he whispered, trying to absorb the enormity of her admission and figure out what it might mean.

"Booth, I simply cannot bear the thought of hurting you. I don't think I'm capable of giving you what you want."

A burst of four-letter words flew through his brain. She wants to be with him, but she can't? Still? What the hell was she telling him? What did she mean? "Dammit, Bones, are you messing with me on purpose?"

"Of course not, I...," she began, but the anger that flashed on his face shocked her into silence.

"I never pegged you for a coward. But you're full of crap, Bones. You want to give us a chance as much as I do. You're just scared."

"I'm not... That's not...," she stammered, unable to find words to express to him her agony over this circumstance. Booth knew her. He knew that she was facing a genuine struggle. Couldn't he see how much she longed for him? Couldn't he understand that she had to be a bigger perfectionist about her interactions with him than she would be with any other? Didn't he understand that failure to do justice to her relationship with him would completely unravel her carefully constructed exterior and wipe away any hope she had for happiness in her future? Scared was far too simple and innocuous a word for what she was feeling.

Sensing that he was right, he got in her face about it, "You're afraid. You're terrified. You don't trust me not to hurt you." He couldn't interpret her words to mean anything else.

"Booth, that is completely untrue. I trust you with my life."

Booth felt like punching someone or kicking something, but all he could do was turn around and let his partner throw another emotional jab at him with her ambivalence, "That's different. That's not enough."

"But that's everything!" She'd worked so hard to get to the point of trusting him about small things, and it had taken a gargantuan effort for her to realize that she would never flinch if faced with the prospect of entrusting her life—her only real possession - to him for safekeeping.

He turned back toward her, the wounds of their damaged relationship palpable, "Bones, I've been on the battlefield with men I trusted with my life. I've trusted other agents and you with my life. That is trust, but that's not enough. That kind of faith requires less commitment because if the person fails you and you die, there's nothing more to lose. Trusting someone with your heart and your hopes and dreams is a bigger, scarier commitment. Because you're giving that person the power to hurt you for years… maybe for the rest of your life." He knew that all too well. He'd done that with her and now felt as if that's the way things between them would always play out.

She looked up at him, almost able to believe that she had already trusted him that much. But her silence hurt him greatly.

"And you don't trust me like that," he whispered.

"Booth...," she ached to explain to him that she had every faith in him but so very little in herself and her ability to provide an equal half of the relationship they both longed for. Shortchanging Booth was not an option. She needed certainty before promising him she could deliver what he needed.

"No. This conversation is over. I can't do the back and forth. Not anymore. I can't keep on hoping when you refuse to let yourself trust me. I can't keep cheating on Fallon emotionally when you won't give me a reason to drop her altogether. I'm your friend, and I will always be there for you. But I can't do this, Bones. I hate that I'm not what you need. Every time we have one of these discussions, it chips away at my soul."

"Booth..."

He turned and walked closer to her, staring down at her with an intensity that made her feel dizzy. God, all she wanted was for him to kiss her. But he didn't. "No matter how much I want to love you. No matter how much I want you to love me. No matter how much I ache to swoop you up and carry you away and make love to you until you can't tell me 'no' about anything ever again, I can't. Fallon's not you, Bones, but she's willing to have faith in me and in us that you seem unable or unwilling to have. I'm not giving up on what I have now unless you can tell me that you can trust me to be what you need. I can't deal with the constant reminders that I'm not enough for you. I could be, dammit, but you just won't let me. And that hurts like hell, Bones."

There it was again. She was so able a weapon to do damage to him, so perfectly crafted a danger to this fine man's heart. This was the core of the reason for her hesitation. Holding the power to hurt this man she adored was a heavy burden she wasn't capable of managing. She needed skill and expertise in order to avoid doing damage to him. And this area of her life was the only one in which she felt ill-equipped to march bravely forward, "I... I'm sorry."

"I know you are. And I know you don't mean to hurt me. But this wavering thing isn't working for either of us. I know you're struggling, but this is one struggle I can't help you with. You're either in or you're out. There's no straddling the line or hedging while you figure it out. We've both done that for years, and it's exhausting and it hurts like hell. I'm dangling off the high wire here, Bones. What... what I feel for you hasn't changed... may never change. But there's only so much rejection a man can take from the woman he wants to build his world around."

"Booth, I..."

"Go home, Bones. I'll see you at the lab tomorrow."

"Booth!"

"Thanks for apologizing to Fallon, Bones. It meant a lot."

As much as he hated doing it, Seeley Booth turned and left his partner standing there beside her car. He nodded wordlessly to the agents to take care of his partner, effectively silencing them about what they'd witnessed at the same time. Out of respect for him, they returned to their work guarding both of the partners to ensure their safety. The kinder, older agent avoided eye contact with the woman whose heart he could see was breaking. He slipped into his vehicle so that he could follow her car home. He watched as she looked back toward Booth's building as he walked inside. He could see how much she hurt watching the man she loved walk back into the arms from the only woman who might actually be able to pull him away from her.


	16. Chapter 16

_**[A/N: Writer's block hit hard. I have simply stared at this chapter for weeks. I wrote another to replace it and then changed my mind. Sorry for the delay. I think that part of my brain demanded that I not heap my misery-making onto the angst promo'd on TV. **_

_**I should tell you that I'm not Catholic and that I intend no disrespect or misinformation about any references to Booth's religious views. Sorry if this offends in any way. It wasn't meant to do so.**_

_**While I'm confessing things (ironic given the reference to the fact that I'm not Catholic), I should tell you all that I have exhausted the pre-written portions of this story. I have notes and plans and outlines for what happens next, but I've run straight through what I'd written. I'd planned to keep writing ahead, but your reviews have kept me honest and encouraged me to edit what was written carefully—instead of adding more to the bank. Maybe running out of text will finally open up the well of words for what comes next. Sure hope so!**_

_**All that said, I continue to be amazed by your patience with and insights into this story. I have certainly been blessed with the most amazing fanfiction readers out there! You guys are really terrific!]**_

Chapter 16: The Vulnerability in the Veteran

A week later, Booth sat in the pew in the cathedral he had long called home for his spiritual life. He was sitting in his regular seat for Mass, but it was late in the evening and there was no service, so the building was eerily quiet. As stressed out and busy as he'd been, Booth had not allowed the case to keep him from making his regular trips to the confessional and to Mass. Today he and Fallon had come to the confessional together. She'd regularly attended mass with him, but they'd never gone to confession together. It was an extremely personal, intimate experience and they had not been that intimate outside the bedroom. After he and his lover had taken turns confessing their sins to priests they couldn't see, he'd felt like lingering a while longer. Fallon had needed to go prepare for a meeting the next morning, so he'd sat as she kissed him goodbye and for a long time after.

In the dark, quiet sanctuary, Seeley Booth sat there mulling over his frustrations and trying to figure out if everything that was happening to him and around him was some sort of test of his faith, overt spiritual warfare, punishment for some unconfessed sin, the results of his own stupidity, completely rotten luck or some combination of those things. He had made no progress deciding.

He'd been unable to get that last personal conversation with Bones out of his head all week. She'd told him she wanted to be with him. Damn, why the hell couldn't that simply be enough? Why couldn't he have just kissed her and thrown her into the car and driven her somewhere so that they could have figured out a way to make things work? Why had he told her he wouldn't leave Fallon for her? Truthfully, he could have done so without a single glance behind him. This was Bones, and she'd told him everything he'd ever wanted her to say. He could not fathom how they'd ended up wrenched apart again and more miserable than they'd been before. He'd realized that he'd balked out of sheer fear just like she had. And, as ridiculous as that now seemed, he knew that he couldn't have reacted any other way.

He'd barely been able to face Fallon when he'd returned to his apartment that night. He halfway suspected that she'd stood at the window and watched him talk to Bones about what could have been. It was almost as if she realized the choice he'd made in returning to her. Fallon had looked so relieved when he'd walked in the door. She'd greeted him with a sandwich he hadn't been able to stomach eating and then kissed him lightly before returning to bed. It was almost as if she knew to give him space to deal with the emotions raging in his head and in his heart. He'd slept on the sofa that night, and she hadn't complained. And she'd woken him blissfully the next morning as a reward for the fact that he'd stayed there with her.

Fallon had continued to be attentive and damned sexy in ways that should have made him happy. And they did—until thoughts of the partner who was now avoiding him intervened. Who was he kidding? Bones was on his mind now more than ever. He'd sworn that he wouldn't give in and talk to her—that he'd done the right thing by putting her on the spot and telling her that she had to come to him. That's what he had failed to do before they spent those long, lonely months apart. He hadn't pushed her to confront her fears after he confessed what he wanted for them and that had gotten him nowhere. He'd hoped that pushing her this time would have the opposite result—that she'd finally just fall into him and let things happen the way they should have.

When he got angry with himself for walking away from her, he reminded himself that Bones had to commit to leaping off the ledge with him. She had to put both her brain and her heart into this thing that they both wanted so badly. He knew that she was close but that she was holding onto control of her actions defensively—that she didn't trust "them" enough to let go and give herself over. She wasn't yet ready to risk her happiness. She wasn't ready to risk their partnership. But he knew that taking that risk was ultimately going to be the only way they'd cement their relationship permanently. They couldn't continue down this destructive path of keeping things on the surface as they'd always been while one—or now both—of them was ripped apart inside.

While Booth seemed to have her convinced that he could walk away from her until she made that decision, he was definitely having trouble pretending that he had put his own feelings on hold while he waited for her to make her mind up. Her face haunted his waking and his sleeping moments. More than once when Fallon had woken him with an intimate touch, he'd kept his eyes closed after he'd woken just to pretend that Bones was the one there warming his bed and enticing his body. He'd long since given up trying to make thoughts of Bones leave his mind, but that didn't stop him from feeling guilty about it. It seemed that everything he did heaped additional guilt and worry upon his already tired shoulders. He wasn't one for pity parties, but he was damned tired of hefting all this emotional crap around with him.

Booth was pulled from his whirling thoughts by the sound of a priest clearing his throat nearby. Springing to his feet, Booth looked around and realized that the cathedral was empty except for the two of them. "Sorry Father, I'll go so that you can lock up."

"No need to rush out, Seeley. It is Seeley, right? I know we've met before. Forgive me for being so blunt, but you don't look as if you've found the peace you came here seeking."

Sighing and shoving his hands into his pockets, Booth shook his head sadly, "No, Father Caston. I haven't. Not yet."

"Call me, Evan. I'm about your age. Don't make me feel any older. Do you want to talk about what's troubling you?"

Booth thought for a few moments. He really didn't know how to talk to anyone about what was bothering him. He hadn't even found the words to tell God what a mess he was in. But the sympathy in the young priest's eyes was appealing. He longed to set aside his burdens—even for a few moments. He was that exhausted.

"Hey, it's late, and I bet you haven't eaten. Why don't you come next door and have dinner at my place? I have plenty of food and nobody to share it with. And if you change your mind and want to talk, you won't have to worry about someone walking in."

"I... I can't intrude like that. Thanks for the offer..., Evan, but I should head home."

"Seeley, it's not an intrusion. You look like a man who could use a friend, and I'm here. You've been here for well over an hour, and you don't look any less miserable."

"I..."

"I saw your girlfriend leave earlier. You clearly aren't talking to her about what's bothering you. This looks like a situation that calls for a little male bonding. We can hang out—no need to treat me like your priest or even to talk if you don't want to do so. I'm a guy, too. God doesn't require me to work 24/7. Do you like hockey? There's a game on later."

Sighing and realizing that the thought of a meal and a game and some male bonding did sound like a welcome relief from his worries, Seeley agreed to accompany the man to his apartment. He informed his watchman of his plans and helped the priest make sure the cathedral was secured for the night. Then he walked with him to the small building in which the parish staff lived.

The aroma of homemade spaghetti sauce greeted Booth as he entered the small, sparsely decorated apartment. His stomach growled in appreciation as he put his jacket down on the back of a nearby chair. "Need some help?" he asked as he walked into the kitchen.

"I'd love a beer. Help yourself to one if you want," Evan said as he checked on the sauce simmering on the stove.

"Beer and hockey, huh? No offense, but I always figured you guys were over here praying and meditating—not being regular guys."

Evan laughed as he put water on to boil for the pasta. "Well, there's plenty of praying and meditating that goes on. But I can't watch hockey without having a beer—especially when it's a big game."

"Are you a Flyers fan?" Booth asked as he leaned against the counter and took a swig of beer.

"No. I'm a Rangers fan. I grew up in Manhattan. Try to watch the Capitals when I can, but I can't switch allegiances. You a Flyers fan?"

"Always have been. Always will be."

"Well, we'd better eat fast while we can actually talk without screaming at each other about the game, huh?"

Booth laughed. It felt like it had been ages since he'd done so.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Seeley," Evan said, his eyes full of concern for the man across the room.

"What? Huh?" Booth asked, clearly startled by the man's voice.

"You didn't have to pretend to like hockey just because I mentioned the game."

"What? I love hockey. I'm not pretending."

"Well, your Flyers won ten minutes ago. You didn't see the last three scores, and you didn't even know the game was over."

"Oh. Sorry... Just have a lot on my mind."

"That's clearly an understatement."

"Yeah. Hey, Evan, I really appreciate the fantastic meal and the game and all. I really should get going. It's late."

"Wouldn't it be better to stay here and unload some of the burden that's weighing you down?"

"I... It's complicated. It would take more than one night to explain half of what's on my mind."

"You'd be surprised. Stay. Talk to me guy to guy. You're not the first man to be sidelined by woman troubles. Going home and avoiding them there isn't going to help. Trust me. I've been there and done that."

"I didn't think you guys were supposed to date."

"Oh, we don't. But nearly losing my mind over a woman sent me into the priesthood. I can recognize the signs. You're a mess. It's obvious. Talk to me about it."

Booth sighed and tried to think of a way to leave without being rude. The man was persuasive, and he really was trying to be his friend. Booth realized that he no longer spent much time hanging out with the guys at work—he'd spent his free time over the last several years with Bones. They were best friends. He hadn't considered until now that he no longer had many close guy friends who weren't squints to talk to about things. He hadn't missed them at all when he'd had Bones. Bones...

Surprising himself as much as the man offering him friendship, Seeley pulled out his phone and made the call to let Fallon know not to wait up for him.

As he cleared away the empty bottles and put the dishes into the dishwasher, Evan tried not to eavesdrop on the man's conversation.

"No, I'm fine. I've just had a few beers and it's late... No, you don't need to drive me. Evan's offered his sofa. I'll just crash here. Get some sleep, Fallon. I'll see you tomorrow night."

As Booth clicked off the call, Evan walked back in and sat back down in the arm chair across the room.

"I'm in love with my partner," Booth said in utter defeat as if that confession had been demanded from him under the most excruciating torture instead of freely offered.

Puzzled, Evan looked at the man sincerely and observed him carefully, "Well, I know that you won't confess your adultery because you don't intend to stop it, but isn't it a good thing that you're in love with the woman you live with?"

"Okay... Having a little trouble facing the priest in you about the adultery at the moment. But no… You don't understand. I… I care about Fallon. Things are good between us. Getting better and better. But she's not my partner."

"She's not?"

"No."

"And you're in love with someone else—not the woman you're living with?"

"Yeah."

"No wonder you're such a mess, Seeley. You're an honest, God-fearing man. You don't strike me as a player. This doesn't sound like a situation you'd end up in. Why don't you tell me what happened?"

And so Booth explained to the man about meeting his partner years before, falling for her and pretending he hadn't, growing close with her, finally confessing his feelings, and letting her leave him for a year. Unable to stop talking once he got started, he explained about how he'd struggled with his feelings when he'd returned and how hard work had been with the bureau questioning his every move. Booth thought he was being as calm and distant in explaining his feelings as Bones would have been clinical in observing remodeling on an old injury. Little did he know that his expression and his tone and the pain swirling in his dark, sad eyes told the insightful man with whom he was speaking all he needed to know.

"With all that going on, how – and why - did you find time to move in with someone else?"

Shaking his head sadly, Booth explained the encounter with his partner in her office and the way she'd shoved him away again. Nodding in sympathy with the man and his plight, Evan listened as Booth told him about falling into the relationship with Patterson out of desperation for feeling anything that wasn't lonely and miserable. His halfhearted attempts to describe his relationship with Patterson rang true. He clearly hadn't invested himself in that relationship. He wasn't able.

Booth went on to describe his recent confrontation and estrangement from his partner. The contrast in the way he spoke about both women told Evan more than Booth meant to divulge.

"I just... I can't remember how to be me without her anymore. We're just… She's just part of me. She's hurting, so I hurt. But I can't comfort her. Not about this. This is the worst it's been. We're both cut open and bleeding over this. We can't even work together the way we used to do. And I didn't think that would ever happen. Not to us."

"But you're still partners."

"It's what we both want."

"Surely you'll work past this problem."

"I don't think she'll ever change her mind and give us a chance. She doesn't believe in faith. She doesn't believe in love—not in falling in love and it lasting forever."

"But you love her anyway."

Booth just looked at the man. Wasn't this the time he was supposed to tell him that relationships built without mutual faith at the center were doomed? Wasn't he supposed to stay away from atheists and people who didn't share his beliefs? Wasn't there some Biblical principle this man could impart that would tell him that giving up on hope for a future with Bones would make more sense?

"Yeah. I can't stop. Believe me, I've tried."

"And she loves you, too."

"She hasn't said those words, but I think she does. She's just… she's had a hard life. Her family abandoned her. She's brilliant but terribly awkward. She offends people. Keeps them at a distance. Most people don't take the time to get to know her."

"Yet she's trusted you enough to develop feelings for you and to confess them to you."

"Yeah. I never thought about it quite like that before."

"What if you're the person to teach her about faith and hope and love? What if God has been using you to open her up to possibilities she'd miss out on otherwise?"

"I'd love it if that were true. I hoped... I thought that might be true. But… it's been years and we're stuck in a holding pattern. Maybe someone else is supposed to break down her defenses. She's holding onto them too tightly with me... What if... what if I'm not enough?"

"Can you honestly turn your back on her? Can you stop feeling the way you feel?"

"You did it. Tell me how."

"I joined the priesthood, Seeley. I knew that only God could change my heart."

"Are you saying that I should become a priest?" Booth asked in complete confusion.

"No. I think you do His work saving lives and protecting people."

"But what am I supposed to do? Working with her is just hurting both of us."

"Have you considered just walking away or asking for a new partner?"

"Turn my back on Bones completely? No… Besides, I promised I wouldn't."

"Do you want to give up on your partnership and your friendship with her?"

"No."

"Then don't. Either you'll reach the point where that's your only option, or the two of you will work something else out. You won't forgive yourself if you walk away and miss out on finally having a chance with her."

"What can I say? What can I do to let her know I won't really leave her? How do I convince her genius brain to change its mind about this? This just seems impossible."

"Seeley, it sounds to me like you're her safety net. You're the one to whom she turns when she's troubled. You're the constant, the abiding love in her life. You have a safety net. You have your faith, you have your son, and your work won't change substantially if you stop working with her. You even have another woman warming your bed. You have a safety net. It may feel like you're laying everything on the line when you reach out to her, but you have a safety net beneath you. Without you there, she's lost hers. If she's as logical and rational as you say she is, how can she willingly take a step out into the abyss of the unknown without a safety net?"

"But she knows that I will be there for her."

"She may not trust that trying and failing in a relationship with you won't change that."

"But I've stayed her partner even though my heart was in shreds. I stood beside her even when she attacked my girlfriend. I haven't abandoned her."

"You don't know how she feels, Seeley. To her, it must feel as if she's nearly lost you already. I'm guessing that you might understand that clinging to what remains of your friendship beats losing it all together."

"Yeah, I do."

"All you can do is be there for her. Show her you won't change. Show her you still care. Reassure her that you're not leaving."

"I don't know if I'm strong enough to do it. Talking with her about us... it's killing both of us."

"The really big things in life are worth the sacrifice it takes to earn them."

"Yeah, I know. It doesn't make it easy, though."

"No," the priest chuckled, "that's why they call it sacrifice."

Booth smiled at his new friend. He sat thinking for a few moments and then asked a question tentatively, "But what do I do about Fallon? I feel like I'm cheating her."

"Does she know about your feelings for your partner?"

"Yeah."

"Really? She knows you're in love with another woman and she's okay with that?"

"We haven't discussed it directly. But I think she's convinced that Bones will pass on my offer. Hell... Um, sorry... I think that's probably what will happen, too. So, I think she's content to wait it out—in case I end up deciding that being with her beats being alone."

"Don't lie to her, Seeley, but maybe it's good you have a different relationship to focus on since the one you want is in distress."

"That's what I keep telling myself. Wow, permission to live in sin from a priest, who'd have ever guessed?"

"Permission is a pretty strong word and completely out of line with the Vatican. I'm just saying that you seem to be being honest with her and that she knows what she's facing. Maybe your relationship will encourage your partner to make up her mind."

"It hasn't so far. How'd you know?"

"Hmmm? Know what?"

"How'd you know when it was time to give up... you know... on the relationship?"

"Sharon and I had been in love for years. We grew up as best friends, dated nobody else, had always known we'd get married. When I got what I thought was the call to the priesthood, she thought I was abandoning her for God. She didn't understand that I didn't want to be a priest. I wanted to be with her. But she was afraid of finding out that I would leave her. She married someone else before I decided what I wanted to do."

"Oh, God. That had to be awful."

"It was. I tried staying there in town. But seeing them together at church was too hard. I'd made my choice—or at least done what I thought God wanted for my life, but as a man… sitting by and watching another man have what I'd always wanted was too much."

"I'm afraid that's what I've done... what I might be doing... to Bones."

"I'm guessing that she's having a really hard time right now. But it might be the pain she needs to make a decision, to take a leap of faith. If it's too much for her, she'll walk away."

"You think she'll do that? That she'll run to some other far away island or something again?"

"I don't know. But it's probably a good sign that she's still here… especially when she's hurting. She hasn't pushed you away or looked for a way out. She's trying to come to grips with her feelings… and with your relationship with Fallon. That proves that she really cares about you."

"It's so hard to watch her suffer silently. She's so brave and strong… I'm usually the one to help her with problems like this. I feel like I'm abandoning her."

"But you haven't taken vows to love another always. You haven't gotten married. And you've made it clear you want to be with her. She's got a choice—to try a relationship with you or to walk away from the hope of ever having one."

"You make it sound so simple. Logical even." He smirked silently at the irony.

"It's not. But she's a scientifically minded person. Maybe when she views the situation as having one of two results, she'll realize that opting for you is the best decision."

"I sure hope so."

"Me, too, Seeley. Listen, get some sleep. Talk to her about it when she gives you an opening. And in the meantime, I'll pray for you."

"Thanks, Evan. Thanks for everything."

"Don't mention it."

Seeley Booth fell asleep hours later in the dark room on Evan's sofa. His mind was still swirling with his worries, but he had to admit that talking to someone had given him a peace he hadn't expected to be possible with so many things still unresolved.


	17. Chapter 17

_**[A/N: I haven't forgotten that this story involves a case. Despite their distractions and the focus on the interpersonal stuff, the characters haven't forgotten that there's a serial killer on the loose, either. We've all been working through the details. Making up case details that don't make me fall over laughing takes time—even if they still aren't quite credible.**_

_**It's a good thing that I wrote most of this earlier week. All I was able to write today were little details about some of the evidence. I can't seem to stop rewatching and rewatching The Doctor in the Photo. Not sure when I'll want to stop doing that—probably January 19**__**th**__** or so. **_

_**Angst on Bones TV has been extreme of late. It's harder to watch than to write. While this is mere child's play compared to epic TV developments, the fact that any of you have kept reading here is a tribute to your strength and endurance. I have to confess that I hold out hope that the Bones TV writers share my belief that something as wondrous as true requited love can endure and is more appreciated when viewed through the lens of the struggle to find it and hold onto it tightly.]**_

Chapter 17: The Wound in the Woman

Brennan had worked tirelessly for days to connect pieces of seemingly disparate information into a theory about the way the victims' bodies had been handled. Slowly, she and her team of scientists were compiling evidence to support that theory and to explain away the puzzling inconsistencies in the evidence. While the actual progress on the case still lagged miserably, this minor victory had been significant to Brennan for more than case-related reasons.

She'd needed to be able to do her work successfully the way she always had. She'd ached to succeed in true Brennan-style fashion so that she could feel that she was herself again. She'd longed to regain the simplicity of focus she'd always been able to direct at will and hoped that it, bolstered by her extreme intellect and logic, would show her a new path that might not lead to another evidentiary dead-end or continued emotional torture. Avoiding Booth was exhausting. She was frustrated to realize that trying not to think of him and refraining from calling him with updates and worrying about whether she'd fall apart the next time she saw him was wearing her down.

Seemingly impenetrable and still tough as nails in appearance, she found herself feeling more malleable and breakable and weak than she'd felt since her parents had deserted her when she'd been a teenager. She'd rarely been so shaken, but facing those types of feelings now lacking Booth's strong shoulder and encouragement to bolster her spirits was damned difficult. She cursed her predicament silently and clung to the fact that she was finally working on a theory that lead them toward a new pool of suspects. She could do her job. She might have failed in other aspects of her life, but she had been born to be a scientist, and her science had never failed her.

Sighing audibly (she was hoping that new habit wasn't becoming obvious to those working around her), Temperance sent Booth an e-mail letting him know that she and Hodgins were working on a new hypothesis and that she wanted to run it by him. Wincing as she clicked the button to send the message, she leaned back against her comfortable custom-designed desk chair and closed her eyes trying to find a moment's peace.

For the past week, Temperance had struggled to deal with the rampant emotion that seemed to rush her unexpectedly at every turn. She was having difficulty compartmentalizing her feelings about the fact that she'd actually taken a leap of faith and told Booth that she wanted a relationship with him-something she'd promised herself never to do for fear that she'd fail him or hurt him. Yet she'd taken that risk in the hopes of finding that her partner still cared for her — that he might possibly still want a relationship with her. Instead of being welcomed or questioned or even ridiculed or spurned for taking an action so out of the ordinary, she'd been shunned. Booth had called her a coward and walked away when she'd hesitated, when she'd allowed her fear of losing him to override her urgent need to cling to him.

These thoughts rekindled her anger and frustration with him and renewed the gut-wrenching ache in her abdomen. She blinked back tears angrily, determined to banish them. She might be forced to acknowledge the fact that she was handling this latest development in her doomed relationship with Booth poorly, but she refused to let him see how miserable she was because of it. She had her pride and stubborn will if nothing else.

By the time Booth rapped lightly on the doorframe, Temperance had seemingly immersed herself in data from a forensic journal article. She nodded almost imperceptibly to acknowledge his presence without drawing her attention away from what she was reading. She channeled all of her energy into looking calm and composed and indifferent. Internally, her mutinous emotions were raging and screaming at her that she was a terrible liar.

"You have a new theory, Bones?" Booth managed to say quietly. He hated this awkward, painful silence that hung between them mocking the close connection they'd always shared. Bones was sitting there pretending to ignore him, pretending to re-read that stupid stuff on her computer, pretending that this was just business as usual. He hated even more that he could see her distress, her sadness, and the effort she was making to cover both so clearly—and that he knew all too well that he had no right to interfere with her ruse. Out of respect for her obvious interest in not discussing what was on both their minds, he vowed to keep his conversation focused on the case.

Bones intervened to ensure that was what happened, "You know that we have been struggling for weeks to explain discrepancies in the timeframes associated with the disappearance of each victim and the state in which the bodies and body parts were recovered. It is now my assertion that the killer is storing the bodies in a professional-grade cooling system after the murders. This would involve placing the bodies in refrigerated drawers like those in a morgue or a funeral home to delay decomposition. One of the challenges we've faced with reviewing the evidence is that the level of decomp of some of the remains did not fit the timeline of the victims' disappearances. If The Taker has access to professional cold storage facilities of some kind, perhaps he or she is storing the bodies for a defined period of time before placing them in shallow graves where they've been discovered by others. I also suspect that he or she has been freezing the organs from victims in order to delay decomposition. Had he frozen the bodies, we'd see signs in the bones, but it's more difficult to detect the impact of solidification on tissue than on bone."

"If the evidence supports this supposition, we will be able to clearly align the evidence and solidify the timelines for the cases against The Taker. Otherwise, we have had to make intuitive leaps to explain the inconsistencies in the timelines for each case and in the degree of decomposition of organs compared with the bodies from which they were extricated. Hodgins is going back over the trace evidence and particulates to see if he can confirm that some or all of the bodies have been refrigerated. He's also searching for evidence of the type of containers that might have been used to store the remains until they were left where they were ultimately found."

"That's genius, Bones. It's the best new lead we've had in ages. Tell Jack to keep on it. I'll get Charlie to start searching for morgues and funeral homes near where the victims lived and worked and were found."

"Angela has already mapped the victims' locations. Have Charlie send her his data so that she can add it to the program."

"Sure thing, Bones. Thanks."

Brennan turned back to her computer in hopes that her partner would leave to start working his end of the new leads she'd just handed him. Regretfully, he did not move. She knew that she'd have felt it physically had he moved an inch farther away from her.

Booth cleared his throat to regain her attention. "I've got a meeting with Sweets to discuss the case tomorrow morning. You can come if you want."

She did not respond. He pretended he hadn't wanted her to do so. "Charlie's working to locate family members from serial cases. That hot lead he had this week sent us straight to a looney bin. That guy isn't doing this. He's not doing much of anything."

"Booth, you know that I find such remarks distasteful and upsetting given what happened with Zack," she stated unnecessarily.

"Yeah. I know... Sorry, Bones," he said sadly, kicking himself for throwing that unnecessary statement in. He'd known better. If he had been able to think straight around her, he'd never have said that—not that way.

"Well, to prove that your point is indeed erroneous and that some people in mental institutions are quite capable of productivity and reason, you should know that Zack posits that the vises were handcrafted. If he's correct, you're wasting your time trying to locate manufacturers. The use of individually crafted vises will make it extremely difficult to identify the source. We'll be forced to search for those with smelting expertise."

"Handmade, huh? Hadn't considered that. Just figured identifying numbers had been filed off or removed."

"There's no evidence that any such marks were removed from the vises, Booth."

"Okay. We'll search for blacksmiths and other people who might make that kind of stuff."

"You're welcome to that and any other such information that will expedite your work on the case. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must focus on this report for Cam." They both knew that was an entirely weak excuse. Brennan had never rushed anything for Cam—ever.

She turned away from him, hating the way that his familiar yet now haunting image had been emblazoned anew on her retinas. She closed her eyes, unable to refrain from taking a deep breath as she focused on the image of her partner standing there hanging on her every word, his eyes aflame with energy and enthusiasm as well as a healthy dose of respect for her contribution to their work on the case. Her brief exile from him had seemingly made her even more sensitive to his strength, his presence, and his symmetrically pleasing appearance. She had to get him out of the room. She felt as if the longer she stared at him, the less oxygen she could import into her suddenly immobilzed lungs.

"Bones," he said gently from the doorway. He wasn't comfortable moving any closer for fear that she'd physically kick him out of the room. Yet, he couldn't just leave—not without saying what he now felt compelled to say.

"Is there something else? Another type of evidence you'd like for us to review in our work? Another apology you'd like to offer for that heedless comment about the mental state of that potential suspect?" she asked almost mechanically, with practiced composure and from behind the barrier of logic that now seemed scattered with holes instead of being impervious and a safe wall behind which she could hide. She sat there staring at the monitor before her, unwilling to look back at her partner. She could feel his eyes assessing her, her skin burned from the knowledge that he was staring intently upon her body trying to evaluate her mental or emotional state. She refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how fragile she'd become.

She knew that ignoring him and trying to offend him wasn't working. She knew that he was frustrated by her obstinate refusal to begin a conversation about what had happened between them. She knew that he would stay until he had said what he felt determined to say. Yet, she would not turn around and face him. She couldn't.

She felt—rather than heard—his approach. Her senses went into full alert as she felt him draw near. Almost afraid of his proximity, she went even more rigid as he sat carefully on the edge of her desk. She felt like a caged animal. He'd effectively boxed her in.

"Bones... Temperance...," he cajoled, empathy and support oozing from the gentle timbre of his voice as it spoke to her. As if under his spell, she turned and met his gaze momentarily. He was utterly and completely Booth in that moment. His guard was down, he looked as terrified as she felt, and yet, he was completely there with her—for her—in that moment. She couldn't breathe. Her brain might actually have ceased to function.

"Talk to Ange. Talk to Sweets. Please find someone you can talk to."

She was not breaking down. Not in front of him. Not at the office. "I'm fine. I'm talking to you. I talk to my staff and to other people I encounter. I don't understand your suggestion. I don't need to talk to anyone," she clipped.

"Neither one of us has been completely fine since the night we talked to Sweets about his book," he whispered, raw pain easing into his voice despite his own attempts to hold his emotions at bay.

"Booth, this report was due to Cam an hour ago," she insisted, realizing how futile it was to try to make him stop talking to her about this but trying anyway.

"Okay, Bones. I'll go. But if you can't find someone else to talk to... if you can't talk about what's been happening with us... to us... between us..., talk to me about it, okay?"

"But you said...," she stammered as her eyes met his head on out of surprise and disbelief.

He smiled at her slightly, hoping that doing so wasn't a mistake, "Since when have I been able to deny you what I can do for you, Bones? I know I said I couldn't talk to you... not about this. But you need to talk to someone. This isn't the kind of thing you keep locked deep inside. Not without it eating at you. You may have the squints fooled, Bones, but I know you. You need to talk to somebody. I'd rather you find someone else, but I won't leave you stranded. I can be the one to listen to you. I need for you to be okay."

She was rendered nearly incapable of speech by his gesture of genuine friendship and concern for her, "I will... I am... I will be... okay."

This was his idea of hell. Bones was hurting, it was largely because of him, and he couldn't do anything to stop it or to help her. His gut twisted painfully as he looked down at her as she struggled to pretend she was fine, "I know you will, Bones. But you know I can't stop worrying about you and trying to protect you… even if I'm protecting you from me."

"Booth," she uttered, tears filling her eyes.

_Oh hell_, he thought. If she started crying, they were both going to fall apart right there in the lab. He was strong, but she was his greatest weakness. He'd hit the wall. He couldn't do this. Not here not now. Especially when her pain was reminding him that he might actually be her biggest weakness as well.

"Not here in the lab, Bones. I... I have a meeting with Rackley, and you have evidence to review. But later... or whenever you need to... or want to talk, okay?"

"Okay."

He stared at her for a long moment, wishing he could sweep away the pain and doubt and fear that kept them apart even though he knew that wasn't possible. Without another word, he rose and walked silently toward the door of her office.

"Booth?" she said, her voice betraying the emotion she felt.

"Yeah, Bones?"

"Thanks."

He nodded and turned to leave waiting until he was out of her line of sight to pause and slump one shoulder against the wall. He exhaled loudly and blinked his eyes to make sure they were not rimmed with tears. Then he made his way slowly out of the lab. He tried not to consider that the woman he'd left behind was in far worse condition than he.

Neither of them could have known that something had already happened to set events into motion to twist this case and their lives as if they were trapped in a literal instead of a metaphorical vise.

_**[A/N: I promise that the part about Booth telling her to talk to someone was already written. Really. I'd have deleted it after watching the last eppy if it weren't there for a specific reason.]**_


	18. Chapter 18

**_[A/N: I don't own Bones or any of its endlessly fascinating characters, but I would so enjoy meeting the amazing writers and actors who make the show so wonderfully entertaining. I'd want to thank them and tell them how brilliant I think they all are (and to drool all over at least one or two of them). Think Santa could arrange that? Hmmm…._**

**_Thanks to all of you still reading and to those of you who have this story and my misery-making on alert. This chapter's not as heavy as most others. I don't think._**

**_This chapter title's for Skole since it might amuse her, and this chapter's for her dear MiniSkole even though she doesn't even read here. _**

**_Hope you're all having very happy holidays!]_**

Chapter 18: The Mad in the Max

Both the FBI team and the team of scientists at the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal Lab worked tirelessly for weeks—for almost a month-making minimal additional progress on the case. For that period of time, Booth and Bones worked mostly separately—sending e-mails back and forth communicating about details that failed to prove significant enough to provide a break in the case.

Fortunately, there were no additional bodies found, but few of the team members anticipated that there had been no murders. Most of them suspected that they just hadn't found the bodies yet. None of the people close to Booth had been approached or attacked, but that didn't remove the sense of foreboding and fear from all of them as they moved about their lives. Things were quiet. Far too quiet. The longer the case went on without any progress, the more untenable waiting for the next murder became.

Unable to bear the heartbreak of spending time with her partner, Brennan kept him at a distance and reassured him and everyone else around her that she was "fine." That excuse had worked for about a week, but Brennan became more and more hostile and defensive the more time passed. It was a conundrum—the more time she spent with Booth, the more unbearable his presence became, yet his absence from her life was suffocating. Even though she was responsible for his absence, she had to expend increasingly more energy pretending that her brain wasn't concocting dozens of different scenarios based on undoing her past actions or that her heart wasn't aching as if it had been pierced and was bleeding slowly. Unwilling to divulge her suffering to those around her even when prodded, Brennan became increasingly abrupt and harsh in dealing with her staff and co-workers. She wasn't resting well, and she wasn't focusing clearly enough to see the infinitesimal clues that typically led her to uncover the identity of murderers. The vicious cycle of silent suffering began to take its toll.

One afternoon after Mr. Nigel-Murray's latest explanation of obscure facts about something having to do with the invention of nail polish, Brennan snapped at him harshly, suggested that he change careers and that he learn that his trivia-telling was an annoying habit no matter how therapeutic it proved to be for him. Without another word or even a glance at the horrified faces of her co-workers, Brennan stalked to her office and slammed the door.

Within minutes, Angela rushed in without knocking clearly bent on confronting her friend.

"Look, Bren, we're all walking on eggshells around you, and I know that this case is getting under your skin, but you were out of line there. Vincent's working as hard as everyone else. His incessant talking drives Cam nuts, but even she's learned that it's the way he thinks. It's his emotionally stunted way of trying to find a way to connect with the people around him. Everybody here has something wacky like that they do to cope. He's very much like Zach, and you always made allowances for Zack because he did good work. Vincent's doing fine work out there. I think it's wrong of you to berate him for not managing the stress well when you've reverted to the cold, clinical scientist who does nothing but work and sleep and infuriate everyone around her."

Brennan was outraged that her friend would yell at her like that. Choosing to avoid the personal accusations, she focused on the professional ones, "Mr. Nigel-Murray is my intern. You are interfering with my supervision of my staff. I will be forced to talk to Cam about this, Angela. Back off and let me do my job."

"I'm tired of backing off. I'm tired of having you snap at me and everyone else for no good reason. I'm tired of you pretending that nothing is wrong with you. You're not hiding it. Everyone can see how miserable you are. If you'd just talk to me about it..."

Hearing Angela demand that she do what Booth had told her to do really had shaken her. She couldn't tell Angela about things with Booth. How could she begin to confess that she'd offered herself to Booth and been rebuffed? It was hard enough for her to bear the knowledge that she wasn't enough for him; telling anyone else about that failure would break her in half. It made matters worse that Angela adored Booth. They were close friends. Brennan would not be the reason for any damage to that friendship. She would not give Angela a reason to choose sides. Even knowing that Angela would choose her side brought her no comfort.

Yet Angela stood there in the doorway trying to bait Brennan into an argument in hopes that she'd stop putting up walls and talk to her. Brennan loved her for the effort, and she'd tell her that someday when her internal organs didn't feel bruised and her emotions weren't running roughshod over her normally in-charge brain.

Glancing up at her friend briefly, Brennan cringed realizing that her friend was likely speaking the truth. While she assumed that Angela was exaggerating, the thought that everyone there could see through her façade was unnerving. Despite her distress, she realized that she didn't need to stay there and fight with Angela. She'd already pushed them so far apart that any further argument might do permanent damage to their friendship. She knew that Angela would forgive her in time, but she decided to leave before making things worse.

"I'm fine, Angela. There's nothing wrong with me. I'm the same as I've always been. Perhaps you just associated warmer, more amiable traits with me because we've become friends. I am sorry to have disappointed you, but I will not pretend to be something that I'm not. I…," she paused, nearly choking up with the urge to fall apart and confess her worries to her friend. That's exactly what she was doing. She was pretending that she wasn't broken-hearted and sad to be alone. She wanted to talk to her friend, but the last time she'd opened up about her feelings she'd been shunned. People didn't expect emotion from her. They were more comfortable when she pretended she had no emotions at all. Besides, she'd been so cold to Angela lately that she had no guarantee that she wouldn't respond in kind. "I have to go."

Without another word, Brennan rushed from the office and out the door. She ignored the calls of her coworkers and her superior. She rushed past her security detail and ignored the thump of his shoes as he raced to catch up with her. She had to leave. She couldn't breathe.

She'd just entered her apartment with the thought that she would run a bath and sit in it until she felt drowsy enough to sleep. She ignored her brain's protest that she owed Cam an explanation for leaving in the middle of the day. She ached with the knowledge that she'd been rude and unprofessional and that so many had witnessed it. She shivered at the thought that one of those people might tell Booth about her outburst and her abrupt departure. Mumbling incoherently in an attempt to stop her brain from screaming at her, she staggered toward the bathroom.

The ringing of her phone stopped her dead in her tracks. Booth was calling. They had a case.

Brennan sent Booth a text telling him she'd meet him at the scene. Barely able to muster the energy to pick up her kit, she turned and moved slowly toward the door.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Just when they had all thought that the killer might be moving on or giving up on torturing Booth, another body had been found. An unusually reticent Brennan arrived at the scene and demanded that everyone—including Booth-stay back from the remains. She consented to a security sweep by the techs and then crept up to the remains alone. What she saw when she examined the body disturbed her, but she compartmentalized her fear and refused to jump to conclusions.

Leveraging her years of experience working with him, Brennan stalled and kept Booth from viewing most of the evidence. She knew that he'd react emotionally once he realized that this was another message targeted for him. She needed time to steel herself for the outburst she expected. She needed more time to concoct an alternate explanation for what this evidence might mean. She shivered considering what he'd think when he saw this. For the first time since the case had begun, she considered that Booth should not be associated with it in any way. That would not be the last time that thought occurred to her. Ironically, she never once considered that she should not be working the case. She was the international expert capable of finding the murderer. Only with her involvement could they assure that the person tormenting her partner would be stopped.

Apparently the only benefit to the current awkwardness between them was the fact that Booth had stopped pushing her. As she worked, she watched him pace in frustration and she could tell that he really felt like jumping down into that shallow grave with her and shaking her until she told him why the hell she wasn't telling him anything. Years earlier, he'd have done just that. Fortunately, events were conspiring in this one solitary way to give her the latitude she needed to protect him from this information.

Brennan manipulated one of the techs into taking Booth several hundred yards away to search for evidence. As soon as he was out of range, she pulled out her phone and dialed a familiar number.

Ignoring his greeting, she spoke quickly, "I need you to call Booth in to the office."

"What? Why?"

"Tell him you have a new theory, a new profile. Tell him you suspect another pattern. Make something up, Sweets. Just get him back to the Hoover Building."

"Where are you, Dr. Brennan? Are you in danger?"

"I'm at a crime scene gathering evidence."

"Booth will never leave you there. Why don't you want him there?"

"There's something here that will distress him. There's another note. I'd like to read it before he finds out about it, Sweets. I promise we'll tell him eventually, but I don't think he's going to want to see this in front of all the techs and the other agents. Do this for Booth, Sweets. Do this as a personal favor to me."

"He's not going to like this. He's going to be angry with both of us."

"I'll explain it all to him later, okay? Call him Sweets. I need you to get him out of here."

With that, she clicked off the line, leaving a nervous psychologist considering how his short, successful life might end quickly if anything about this ruse went awry. Swallowing hard, he dialed Booth's number.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

As she'd expected, she'd been able to convince Booth that his time would be better spent exploring Sweets' theory than on pacing the crime scene and driving her and everyone else "off the wall." She'd purposefully botched that expression to convince Booth that she was fine. He'd bought the façade and corrected her misstep and eventually headed back to the office. Of course, he'd threatened at least three agents about keeping an eye on her before he'd left, but at least she'd been able to get rid of him. Without visions of him tormenting her and his voice rattling her whenever she heard it, she was able to focus on her work.

Back at the laboratory, Brennan and her team had worked quickly to scrutinize and photograph the body and to take samples from the other evidence. All signs pointed to this being The Taker's latest victim. While this case seemed to fit the mold of either random victims or those unrelated in any way to Booth, the additional items left in the vise with this heart had caused every single person who'd seen them to stare at Brennan for a long moment before they moved on to perform their jobs.

Angela watched as her friend worked as if she hadn't been falling apart earlier that day. She knew that Brennan's focus was on uncovering the evidence quickly so that they could open the note and start pondering what it might mean. Angela was terrified for Brennan as soon as she saw the evidence that had stopped Hodgins in his tracks as he leapt up onto the platform. They'd exchanged a look—it appeared that The Taker had been waiting to focus his attention on someone especially close to Booth. The tiny glass heart tied with a red ribbon to the bones criss-crossed and tied on top of the heart in the vise sent a clear signal. Bones near the heart. Booth's "Bones" was about as close to his heart as anyone could be. Angela shuddered to consider that her friend might now be the target of this serial killer.

As she stood there watching the scientists work, Angela puzzled when she saw a disheveled Rackley enter the lab and rush to the platform. Where the hell was Booth? Why didn't Brennan look more terrified? She was clearly only concerned for her partner—not taking time to think about the danger she might be facing personally. Angela moved closer to listen to the conversation.

As was her tendency, Brennan dispensed with the pleasantries, "Thank you for coming over quickly. I wanted someone from the FBI… not Booth… here when we opened the note. Hodgins has taken samples and examined these items for particulates and trace evidence. We're ready to remove the envelope."

Rackley nodded and looked as eager as Brennan to find out what the letter said. Brennan worked skillfully, taking her time to remove the envelope while not bending or damaging it in any way. She slowly pried the flap opened and used long tweezers to extricate the paper from the envelope. She paused only long enough to drop the envelope in the plastic evidence bag Hodgins was holding for her.

Taking a deep breath, she placed the folded sheet of paper on the examining table and used the tweezers to open it. They stared silently at the words crafted from scraps of newsprint magazines and junk mail flyers.

Brennan read the note with increasing concern as she continued to speak, "You just chose my next victim, Agent Booth. When she dies, it will be your fault."

The clatter of the tweezers on the examining table echoed loudly in the silent laboratory. The sound continued to ring in the ears of those nearby, sending chills through more than one of them. Surprising nobody, Brennan regained her composure almost instantly and started giving out orders to the team about what to do next. However, the remaining near-silence in the room was interrupted as an angry Booth rushed toward the platform, swiping his keycard harshly through the reader and glaring alternately at Brennan and Rackley as if he couldn't decide which one of them to unload upon first. A desperate psychologist trailed far behind the special agent, cautioning him to listen before acting. Sweets looked worried that Booth might actually cross the line and do something unprofessional. Given the expression on Booth's face and his posture, everyone watching him had the same concern.

"Which one of you brainiacs decided to keep evidence from me?" Booth demanded. Although he was not at fault, Rackley looked intimidated. Only Brennan appeared to be unaffected by her partner's threatening behavior. She stepped forward and met his wall of fury with a composure that made him half-mad.

"I did. I wanted to see the note before you read it and to spare you the pain of reading something disturbing in front of the field techs and agents."

Booth turned to her ready to take her on. Her jaw was set, her decision had been made, and she was being honest with him. She had a point—if what she'd seen had disturbed her, it was more than likely that he'd have gone ape had he seen it—no matter who had been watching him. Stunned into silence, he opened and closed his mouth a few times. Damn her! She'd taken the wind of him. He'd felt like yelling. He needed to yell. He still felt like yelling, but now he had no reason.

Before he could recover his jumbled thoughts, Brennan again went on the offensive. "This note is a direct threat against Fallon, Booth. You should increase her security detail." With those words, Brennan left the platform for her office. A shaken Booth turned and stared at the evidence. What he saw when he looked down made his blood ran cold. Everyone staring at him was thinking the same thing. This evidence wasn't pointing to Fallon. It was pointing straight at his stubborn-as-hell and infuriating partner. _Dammit!_

Whirling, he rounded on Rackley and started barking orders. He demanded that he triple the security on Patterson and on Brennan. When Rackley started to argue, he leaned closer and spoke through gritted teeth. "I don't give a damn about the budget. Take it out of my salary. Give them my tails if you have to, Rackley. I will kill you if he gets to either one of them."

Without considering the danger inherent in his actions, Booth rushed to find his partner. She wasn't shutting him out until he told her in no uncertain terms that she was to be careful and that she was not allowed to keep evidence from him.

"Bones, dammit, what the hell were you thinking?" he barked as he burst into her office.

"You are only confirming that my actions were appropriate. I knew this note would draw an emotional response from you, and I tried to provide you relative privacy for such an outburst."

Any other day, such a gesture from his partner might have made him smile and thank her. This was not one of those days. "Partners don't withhold information about cases from one another, Bones. It's damned dangerous."

"I merely delayed your access to the information, Booth. There's been no damage. Shouldn't you go protect Fallon?"

"Bones, don't even pretend that things are that simple. You are getting extra security."

"Me? There's a heart tied atop the remains, Booth. The Taker is clearly threatening your girlfriend."

Booth wanted to scream or to shake her. Instead, he opted to invade her personal space so quickly that she inhaled sharply.

"This jackass is watching me, Bones. He's been watching me for a long damned time. He knows. Hell, he might have been there the night you broke my freaking heart."

"Booth, lower your voice… we have no real privacy here," Brennan hissed, fighting the tears that threatened to appear.

"We may not have had any privacy for years. The Taker knows that we're close, Bones. You can point to that heart and try to snow everyone else into assuming that Fallon's the next target. But there are Bones under that heart. Bones near the heart, Bones. **_Bones. Near. The. Heart._** You're the target, Bones. Not Fallon."

"I… You're not being rational…," she needed him to leave. It would crush her if, in fact, a serial killer had realized how much she cared for Booth and vice versa nearly as quickly as she had. She couldn't even process that thought. Surely she was not that crippled emotionally. It was easier to frustrate Booth into leaving than to consider that hard cold fact.

"I don't care. You're getting extra security, and you're not going to do one single thing to risk your safety, do you hear me? I'm not kidding here, Bones. I'll take you in and put you in custody if that's what it takes to keep you safe. Don't push me on this."

Seeing the worry on his countenance, she caved more quickly than she had planned. "Fine. I'll just stay here in the lab. I won't take any risks. That way you can be free to protect your girlfriend."

Booth started to speak and then stopped himself. Bones was obviously not going to talk to him about this. She clearly wanted him to leave her alone even though the mere thought of doing so nearly paralyzed him. Still, he decided that he didn't actually care about anything else at this point as long as she didn't do anything dangerous. "Not one single step outside the safety zone, Bones. Listen to the agents. Let me know where you are. Got it?"

"Of course, Booth. I'm not mentally challenged. I understand that I'm to remain safe and allow the security team to protect me. Shouldn't you be giving Fallon this same speech?"

Shaking his head in frustration, Booth turned and left the office. He paused briefly and looked back at her, his worry and concern for her evident. "Stay right here, Temperance. I'll see you later."

Booth dialed Fallon as he made his way out of the lab. He didn't give her time to say anything—he just started barking orders at her immediately. He asked her to meet him at the apartment. She complained that she was at work. He offered to storm in and yell at her in front of the ATF agents, so she reluctantly agreed to leave the office to meet him.

Once at the apartment, Booth paced and tried to calm his thoughts. Either or both of them could be in danger. The fact that Sweets had pointed out that nobody close to Booth had been hurt had been of little comfort. What if all of this had been leading up to the fact that The Taker was going to hit someone closest to him? Ideally, he'd have locked both Fallon and Temperance up together somewhere and made himself the primary guard. But he knew that was not going to be an option. He had to do everything possible to protect both of them separately. He couldn't let The Taker get to either of them.

When Fallon arrived, Booth filled her in on what had happened. Fallon surprised him by insisting that the message was meant to threaten his partner. _Figures_, he thought, _they're both gonna drive me nuts demanding that I'm overreacting and guarding the wrong woman_. Frustrated that Fallon would see the message as clearly as he had, Booth overcompensated by pretending to be even more worried for her safety.

She shook off his attempts at consoling her and reminded him clearly that she was a trained agent and that she had a security detail. He told her he was tripling her security. She balked. They argued. She stormed out telling him he was overreacting and stalking the wrong woman.

He wondered if her words echoed in her own ears the way they were still ringing in his.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Early that afternoon, Booth sat in the cathedral alternating between praying and berating himself for handling both of the women in his life badly. He smiled miserably as he felt Evan sit down next to him in the pew.

"Rough day, huh?" the minister said to his friend.

"Yeah," Booth said quietly.

"Anything specific I can pray about?"

"The killer left another body and another note. Bones thinks he's targeting Fallon, and Fallon insists he's targeting Bones. I've fought with both of them, and I'm terrified that he's going to hurt one or both of them."

"Okay, I can pray for their safety and for your sanity. Anything else?"

"The sanity's a lost cause, Evan."

"Yeah, I know."

"You're feeling guilty, Seeley."

"Yeah."

Evan looked around to make sure that the agents weren't close enough to hear what he said next, "You feel guilty that you're more worried about your partner than your girlfriend."

Booth was stunned, "What? Did the man upstairs tell you that?"

"No, it's obvious that you're a wreck and that you're worried about your partner."

"Yeah."

"Your girlfriend's okay with that?"

"She seems to be. She as much as told me to go watch over Bones."

"Are you sure she didn't do that so that you wouldn't have to choose?"

"You don't think she…. Oh… God, this is too much."

"Do what you need to do, Seeley. They're both smart, capable women, and you're doing all you can to protect them."

"But I can't be there with both of them."

"No."

Booth just sat there miserably, staring at the priest and begging him silently to help him deal with everything that was happening.

"Well, you've gotta have faith that they'll stay safe when you're not with them."

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

With Evan's reassurances echoing in his mind, Booth spent the afternoon hovering at the lab. Watching over Bones was the thing that most calmed him down. At least when she wasn't trying to get rid of him.

Cam finally put him into an empty office and told him to stay out of everyone's way. He'd become more belligerent and disruptive after Brennan had informed him that she was no longer speaking with him because he was impeding her work on the case.

She hated the way that he was making a spectacle of protecting her. When she'd dropped a clipboard, he'd leapt into her office, weapon drawn and ready to fire. His concern for her had been as smothering as his presence. She had told him repeatedly that he was wasting his time there in the lab. Eventually, after everyone continued to ignore him, he left.

Booth checked in with the guards every half hour. He'd gone by his office and then straight to Fallon's to drive her crazy for the rest of the afternoon and on into the evening. She'd left him in her office and gone down the hall to work in a cubicle so that his endless calls to Rackley and Charlie and the security guards didn't distract her from doing her job. When her office neighbors came down and complained about the noise, Fallon decided to drag him home. She breezed past the four agents standing guard in the nearly empty hallway making the other ATF agents crazy and told her lover that they were going to the apartment.

Surprising her by leaping to his feet to follow her, Booth finished his call and made one more. She listened as he left a message on his partner's voicemail—informing her that if she didn't text him back in ten minutes that he was coming over there and arresting her for disobeying the direct orders of a federal agent. Fallon looked at him and shook her head. Seeley had clearly gone mental at some point during the day.

The ride to the apartment was tense and silent. Seeley drove like a maniac, constantly looking around for danger. He wheeled into his normal parking spot and looked ready to bolt out the door.

"Stop," Fallon ordered, surprising him into inaction for the first time in hours.

"C'mon, Fallon. The guys are tired. The sooner we get inside, the sooner they can get into position and call to check on Bones."

"Seeley, it's okay to admit that you're scared. You've been running all day today. It's almost like you're trying to stay busy so you won't have time to think about this."

He sighed and slumped back against the driver's seat.

"You've been driving me and my co-workers nuts all day. I know you must have aggravated Dr. Brennan the same way because they'd never kick you out of the lab unless…."

He started to protest but she just shook her head at him, "I called and asked Dr. Saroyan to give you a lead. She said that you had been banned from the lab hours ago."

His cheeks burned with embarrassment, but he said nothing.

"Why don't we go see Sweets or another FBI counselor? I'll go with you. You won't even have to talk. I'll tell them about the strain you've been under…. Anyone in your position would be strung out at this point. It's not a sign of weakness… It's just that you're human."

"Look, Fallon. I appreciate what you're trying to do here. But what I'm trying to avoid is the strain that I'll be crushed under if The Taker does something to you… or to Bones. I can't relax or rest if I think you're in danger. Unless Sweets is going to recommend ECT or something, that will be a waste of time."

"EC… what?" Fallon asked in her confusion.

"Sorry… electroconvulsive shock treatment or ECT… that's squint-speak for electroshock therapy… Bones told me about it when we visited a looney bin on a case."

Fallon sat staring at him wondering how long he would persist in ignoring his attachment to his partner. Even in his darkest moments of worry or his most intense moments of concentration, he was thinking of her. Fallon hoped that he'd stay in this denial permanently or at least until they'd had a change to cement their own relationship, but her gut twinged as if to warn her of the danger that would not happen.

Suddenly inspired and more desperate than she'd ever have admitted, she leaned close and whispered in her most sultry voice, "I know what we can do to help you relax. And it might be shocking… but in a good way to parts of you other than your brain."

"Fall…," he started to protest, but she pulled his lips to hers and crushed them, knowing the best of ways to attain and to keep his attention. He fought her temporarily but then lost himself in the bliss of forgetting everything except the way her touch warmed him and the promise of ways they could get warmer still. She pulled back just before he lost control and decided that they'd just stay put and break a few laws of public decency right there in the car. Pushing him away and opening her car door, she turned and walked quickly toward the apartment building with her jacket pulled closed to cover her hastily misplaced clothing knowing that Seeley would have no choice but to rush after her.

She turned and looked back at him, a knowing smile temporarily loosening the tension in his jaw. He jogged to catch up with her, followed right behind her into the stairwell, and managed to paw her heavily on their way up the flight of stairs. Forgetting the agents and the case and everything else that should have been distracting him, Booth half-shoved Fallon into the apartment and then pulled her back to him hungrily.

They'd moved from the den to the shower for more tension-relief when Booth heard the pounding on his apartment door. Assuring Fallon that he'd come back and get her if anything was wrong, he towel-dried a bit and secured the damp towel around his waist. He grabbed his gun and checked the peep hole before opening the door for the agent.

"I'm assuming this is important," Booth demanded of the younger man before him.

"Yes, sir. We've arrested someone. A man who tried to get past us and into your apartment. He assaulted Jeffries and took a swing at me. We'll take him to headquarters for processing—we've already read him his rights, but you might want to take a look at him. He says he knows you." The agent fidgeted for a moment before saying the last part of his message for Booth, "He also said he was going to kick your ass and then kill you…."

Hearing about those threats sent Booth out into the hallway in search of the man. Maybe they had caught a break and caught the killer. He was going to disassemble him piece by piece.

But instead of finding a murder suspect, he only saw Max standing there restrained but still straining for a way to do him bodily harm. Totally deflated realizing this was in no way going to help them with the case, Booth shook his head. He walked over to Max and stood staring down at the smaller man as if he could belt him one just by doing so. Unlike most people, Max wasn't at all affected by Booth's glare. He was too busy giving him one of his own.

"Take off the cuffs. He's not The Taker. He's a retired felon. He's no real threat to anyone, and he's served his time."

"But Booth… he hit Jeffries…."

"Jeffries, do you want to press charges and admit to the world that a senile senior citizen got a punch in on you?"

"No, I suppose not," Jeffries admitted, yanking hard on Max's arms as he moved to release him from the cuffs.

"You know this jerk? You're sure he's no threat?" the agent asked Booth as he turned and walked to the door of his apartment.

"This is Max Keenan. He's my partner's delinquent, often absent, lousy excuse for a human-much less a dad. He's supposed to have agents following him. Call and find out where those losers are and why they lost him," Booth growled as he went to his bedroom to get a change of clothes, picking up the remnants of his romp with Fallon on his way through the room and dialing Bones' security guards to make sure that she was fine.

By the time Booth had dressed and completed the call and returned to the den, he heard voices. Max and Fallon were standing toe to toe, neither of them mincing words.

"So you're the whor…," Max was spouting, but Booth crossed the room and shoved him around and into a chair, effectively cutting of his speaking with the impact.

"You should shut the hell up, Max. You can't barge into my apartment and insult my girlfriend. Ever."

Max stood back up ready to fight even though he would never win a real battle with the younger agent, "My daughter's in danger and you're over here taking a spin on the latest tilt-my-world Barbie?" Max yelled at the younger man.

"Max, I will break your jaw if you say one more word."

"What is this about, Seeley? This jerk got past security, and he started in on me the minute I walked out here. Who the hell is he? Let me kick him around."

"Fallon Patterson, meet Max Keenan, the asshole father who hurt Bones by abandoning her when she was fifteen years old. Max, this is my girlfriend, Fallon Patterson. She's an agent, too. I suggest that you watch your step if you want to be able to keep taking steps."

"Hey, you always put the worst spin on that story. Tempe's forgiven me. You know I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up for the pain I caused. You… You on the other hand…," Max started, but Booth stepped closer to him and the man stopped talking.

"Why are you here, Max? Just say what you want to say so that I can kick you out of here."

"Are you sure you want Barbie here for this? Does she know, Booth?"

Booth glared at the man and considered decking him for even hinting at how close he was to his daughter, "You've got five minutes, Max. Talk fast and then get the hell out."

After a mere glance at the woman across the room, Max spoke intently to his daughter's partner, "She trusted you. You promised me you would take care of her and then you abandoned her… She's in danger because of you…."

"I will never abandon Bones, Max. You know I won't let anyone hurt her, Max. I'm taking care of her. I have tripled her security. I am spending time watching her myself. Bones will be fine."

"You're taking care of her how…? How exactly can you call what you've done to her taking care of her? Explain it to me like I'm a kid Parker's age."

"Bones can take care of herself, but you know that I take care of her as much as she'll let me. I've taken bullets for her and from her, Max. I've killed to protect her. Bones is my partner, and I won't let anything happen to her."

"You and I both know that her security is not what I'm talking about. Maybe you're who she needs protection from, Booth. You broke her heart, dammit! She trusted you. You know better than anyone how much that cost her. And you just what… walked away from her? I'm sure your girlfriend is great, but she's not my daughter. You hurt her because she cares for you so much. Reaching out like that is harder for Tempe than anyone else. And you just what… laughed at her? spurned her? Give me one good reason why I shouldn't take you down for that," Max growled, ignoring the woman in the room completely and attempting to impose his physical presence on the younger man before him.

Max could tell that he was getting through to Booth. He'd expected the man to flinch having all of this play out in front of his girlfriend. But Booth's unfettered reaction only proved to Max that he'd been right—that this man was in love with his daughter.

"Maybe you need to go back to Bones and get the whole story, Max. I never laughed at her—I'd never laugh at Bones. I will never abandon her—she knows that. She can trust me with her life. Only the sad fact of the matter is that because of the way you hurt her, she's afraid to trust anyone—even me. But just because you're a jerk doesn't mean that I've ever intentionally hurt her. You know what? I'm not talking to you about the rest of it. What happens between Bones and me is ours—and you have less of a reason than most people to try to interfere in our business."

"She showed up at my apartment in tears today. My little girl doesn't cry often. And she said that she couldn't talk to you about what was upsetting her."

Booth's lips formed a flat line and he swallowed hard. He'd had enough. Having Max describe they way he'd made Bones cry was too much. Too ironic. She wouldn't go to Max about what had happened… or almost happened. Not his Bones. Not to Max. Then it hit him. The conniving little….

"You can cut the crap, Max. I know you're worried about Temperance, but nobody's worried more than me. You don't have to come over here and make crap up so that I'll watch out for her. Who the hell do you think was watching out for her for years before you showed back up? You don't get to question my loyalty to Bones. Not and let me allow you to remain standing up while doing it. She was at the lab all day. She's still there. I'm getting reports more often than every half hour. I'm guessing you stopped by and heard about the case and decided to bully me into doing what I was already doing. Stop wasting the time I can be spending checking on Bones' safety, Max. Just go the hell home."

"I get that you'd think I'd lie to you to protect her, but I'm not. She showed up at my door and collapsed into my arms. You don't wanna talk about this in front of the girl, fine. But you and I both know that you've hurt her, Booth. And you aren't doing your whole job because your security detail is lying to you to protect the privacy of my daughter. Maybe they've figured out that she's the one worthy of their loyalty and respect. That she won't abandon them when things are hard."

Booth's fist connected with an upper cut on the left side of Max's jawbone. The man fell back into the chair again, this time clenching his rapidly swelling jaw and moaning. Booth hadn't meant to hit him so hard. He'd just reacted to the accusation emotionally. He hoped he hadn't actually broken the man's face.

Fallon had rushed over and now stood with her back to Max and her hands on Seeley's chest. "Go find out where Dr. Brennan is. Yell at the security teams and make sure they won't lie to you anymore. Fire the losers who let this old geezer get away from them. I'll get this guy out of here… and I'll make sure he goes to a hospital if he needs to. Go."

Booth looked down at her and hated the hesitation he saw dancing behind her eyes. He glared past her toward Max and felt a new rush of guilt. The man hadn't been lying. He knew now that Bones had gone to talk to him. The fact that she felt that desperate wounded him somehow. She'd had nobody else to whom she could turn.

Nodding at his girlfriend, he turned to make those calls. He stopped in the hallway and looked at the older man in the chair, "Don't go doing anything stupid that will make Bones take a risk to help you," he said in a tired voice. "I hope your jaw's not broken."

The men exchanged a look at said far more than they'd screamed at one another all night. As Booth disappeared from sight, Fallon helped Max up and ran her fingertips over his jaw. She retrieved an ice pack from the freezer and sent the man out into the hallway so that the security guards could escort him home.

"Booth's a good guy… not that I'll ever admit that to him. I understand that you'd be interested. But you walked in to the middle of something here. I don't know how much you…."

"I'm not blind or stupid, Mr. Keenan, and I'm not going to talk to you about any of this out of respect for my boyfriend. I'm a big girl. We're all adults here—your daughter included. She's quite capable of taking care of herself. And Seeley's gone out of his mind worrying about her. You don't have to be concerned that he's not doing all he can to protect her and keep her safe. We both are."

Fallon led Max out into the hallway and informed the agents to take him home. She also told them they'd better warn Max's tails to have their facts straight about why they lost him and that they should call the guys tailing Dr. Brennan and tell them to do their jobs or plan to lose them.

Nodding at Max as he walked down the hallway, she turned and re-entered the apartment. Closing the door behind her, she leaned back upon it and let her emotions rush over her for a moment. This damned case was making it awfully hard for them to do anything resembling enjoying a normal relationship. She'd hoped that staying and helping him would bring Seeley and her closer together—and it had. But the strain of his partnership was counteracting the progress they'd made. Part of her wished they'd talked more about what had obviously gone down recently between Seeley and his partner. The larger part of her decided it was probably better if she never knew.

Sighing and trying to put on her best supportive girlfriend expression, Fallon walked across the room and toward the hallway toward their bedroom. She paused outside the door not wanting to interrupt the conversation. She couldn't resist eavesdropping on what turned out to be a voicemail message to his partner. She'd expected him to be angry. Seeley was angry nearly all the time lately. Instead, she heard his voice pleading, and it sent chills up her spine, "Bones, promise me you won't hide where you're going anymore. Anything could have happened and I… I wouldn't have been able to get to you. I need to know where you are, okay? I need to know that you're safe. Please stay safe. Please?"

Choking back her wounded pride, Fallon walked into the room and pretended that she hadn't heard anything she'd heard that evening. Long after her exhausted boyfriend had fallen into a fitful sleep, she lie there trying to convince herself that staying there and fighting for Seeley still made sense. It had to-right?


	19. Chapter 19

_**[A/N: Remember this story? I'm sorry I've been distracted. Hope to come back and wrap this one up in the near future. Still, there should probably be rules preventing me from posting twice in one day. Feel free to let me know if you'd rather me space out the misery-making.**_

_**This chapter's for Cyndi because she writes some of the most amazing "**__**reactions" I've ever read. (C, I'd already typed "reviews" and went back in to delete it after your tweet-LOL!) Cyndi's ranting here and over in Try helped inspire me to wrap up the last of this chapter. I'd been just staring at that part for days until her words and those of corgipaz motivated me. Thanks! **_

_**All you troopers reading here really are phenomenal.**_

_**Don't own Bones, but I'm drooling in anticipation of a new episode this coming week!]**_

Chapter 19: The Rock and the Hard Place

When Fallon rolled over the next morning, the sheets on Seeley's side of the bed were ice cold. He must have left early. She had no doubt where he'd gone.

__

THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…

Across town, Booth pulled into his parking spot at the Hoover Building and checked to make certain his shadow agents were still on post. If they couldn't keep up with him, they'd never manage to follow Bones and Fallon. He sighed and relaxed a bit. They were there. They were working.

As Booth picked up the things on his passenger seat that he needed to take into the office, he took a moment to go back mentally through his morning. He'd stopped by the lab early and found Bones dozing on her sofa. After saying a prayer of gratitude, he'd pulled her agents aside and reamed them out for lying to him about where Bones had been when she'd sneaked over to talk to Max. Booth told them he'd see them fired if any of them pulled that crap again. He also told them that he knew that Bones was smart and persuasive and that he expected them to do their jobs even when she tried to stop them. He reminded them that they didn't work for Bones. Their job was to keep her safe even if—especially if she took risks. Assured that he'd gotten his message across forcefully enough, Booth had checked back in on Bones once more before heading to the Hoover Building, two agents of his own in tow.

Hacker had left him Booth message the night before demanding that he appear in his office at 9:00 a.m. sharp. He assumed that the man was going to moan about the budget for this case. Hell, he knew they had half the bureau's trained escort staff working on this case. He also knew that he'd been seriously overstepping by stomping all over Rackley's authority. As he straightened his tie and sat down to wait for the meeting, Booth braced himself for some bureaucratic ego-smacking. He knew this wouldn't be pleasant. He decided just to endure it so that he could get back to the lab and work on the case.

Surprising him completely, Hacker didn't even mention the budget. Instead, he took the awkward, entirely less professional approach of mocking Booth for needing so many staff to protect his two "women." He threw jab after jab at him about juggling two women on the job when dating coworkers was frowned upon. Booth listened quietly for a long time realizing that Hacker was still jealous that he'd never measured up in Bones' eyes. He figured that Hacker was more bureaucrat than agent and that he was just taunting Booth about the one weakness he could find. He could ignore most of what the man said. He had more important things on his mind. As he pretended to listen intently, he reminded himself that he just needed to ride this out and get back to work. It would be simpler that way.

It was hard for Booth to listen to Hacker accuse him of being a playboy to demonstrate his prowess since he hadn't solved a case in so long. That had been a low point, but Booth had been too focused on the details of what he needed to do for his job that he hadn't let many of Hacker's words get to him. But when Hacker accused him of putting Temperance at risk by not solving the case more quickly, Booth stood quickly and walked around the desk to glare at the man. He seriously considered decking him. Instead, he turned and silently left the office so that he could keep his job.

Booth knew that the remark about Bones had bothered him for reasons Hacker didn't fully understand. He knew that Hacker had no idea how completely torn up he'd been worrying about Bones. Reminding himself to give her space and telling himself that he should check in on Fallon, he drove to the ATF headquarters building and went to his girlfriend's office. That was something he could accomplish.

As he went through security and signed his life away gaining access to that facility with a weapon, Booth considered that he knew that Fallon was being entirely too cool and too quiet about all of this. It wasn't her nature, so he had to assume that she was doing so for his sake. He knew that she had to be worried for her safety even though she pretended she wasn't. She had to have questions about his sulking since that night Bones had talked to him openly and those worries had to be worse after listening to Max rant loudly about his hurting Bones. He had to give her credit for making things easy for him. He'd chosen to stay with her, but he couldn't pretend that he was fully committed. He couldn't have blamed her if she'd just walked away.

As he rode the elevator up to the floor where she now worked, Booth decided that Fallon didn't deserve his distance, his ambivalence, or his obvious second best. He'd been on the receiving end of that situation before and it stunk. Some facts could not be changed. He had long ago made peace with Bones being the only true choice if he were ever allowed to make one, but he had no real assurance that would ever work out. He had to move on. He just wished that whole process were easier.

As he knocked on her door and saw her smile enthusiastically upon seeing him, he walked in and virtually admitted to Fallon that he had become a louse of a boyfriend. He made some time to apologize to her for being a mess and to reassure her that he cared for her and wanted her to be safe.

Fallon smiled up at him, but her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Seeley's words had fallen short of what she'd wanted to hear, but it was obvious that he was trying. That was something. It was more than she'd expected, and the gesture encouraged her. She told herself that, if they could get through something like this without things falling completely apart, she had hope that they'd build a real relationship together.

As she watched him settle in at a table in the corner to make some calls while she worked, Fallon told herself that people's relationships were often messy. Seeley and his partner had danced around one another for years. She didn't mind the dancing as long as Seeley didn't cross any lines. She knew he wouldn't. He was honest even if he was torn about things with his partner. She'd screwed him over and badly long ago. At least he wasn't trying to do that to her now. Just the fact that they were still dating after the way Seeley had fought against her early was a positive sign. As she watched his muscles move and flex as he reached over to pick something up, she considered how utterly masculine he was and paused to dwell upon the fact that the sex between them couldn't get any better. What they needed was for this case to be solved and for them to have a shot at a normal relationship.

He caught her staring at him and walked over to smile down at her encouragingly. Seeing the concern in his eyes rekindled her hope and her affection for the man standing before her. She rose and kissed him tenderly and told him she was making him dinner that night and that they'd watch hockey or a movie or something.

He smiled down at her and told her he'd look forward to spending quality time with her, appreciating her effort and the fact that she was willing to stick with him when he was all over the place emotionally and otherwise.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

She'd shopped and read recipe books and planned the meal. Fallon was exhausted already and she hadn't even begun to cook. She was no chef. She never had time for elaborate meals because she focused so much of her time on work. She had a few serviceable things she could cook, but she'd wanted to make something special for Seeley. She hoped he'd appreciate the effort—he had to remember that cooking a real meal wasn't something she did often. Surely he'd appreciate the gesture.

As she'd diced the vegetables for the salad and done the other prep work, her mind had been nagging at her. Seeley's half-hearted effort to show an interest in their relationship earlier that day was weighing on her mind. She'd ached for him to show a spark—for her to see a glimpse of him the way he'd looked at her all those years ago when they'd fallen for one another hard. Sadly, she hadn't seen anything close.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After she'd pulled the entirely homemade Lasagna Verdi al Forno out of the oven and placed the salad on the table, she heard Seeley enter the apartment. She smiled when he put a bottle of wine on the counter and walked over to kiss her. Thrilled with the way he'd greeted her and thanked her for cooking, she took his hand and led him over to the table. They'd just finished serving themselves when his cell phone rang. She closed her eyes, hoping that he wouldn't take the call. But she'd known that wouldn't happen.

"Sorry, babe," he said, pulling out his cell and taking the call.

"What? Where? Did you get him? I'm on my way. I'll be there in ten," Seeley said as he lurched up from the table, grabbed his badge and his gun, and whirled to look back at his girlfriend, still jogging backward toward the door.

"Fallon, The Taker hurt someone at Bones' gym. I've got to go. I'm so sorry about dinner. Save it for me to eat later, okay?"

"I hope she's okay," she said as she tried to hide the disappointment in her voice.

"I'm really sorry, Fallon. I just…."

"Just go, Seeley. Duty calls."

"I'll call you later," he said over his shoulder as he raced out the door.

She sat there for a long moment before wrapping all the food up and storing it in the refrigerator. She'd completely lost her appetite. After opening the bottle of wine and pouring a large glass, she picked up her cell phone and dialed. "Hey, Lydia," she said as wiped down the counters and removed any evidence that anyone had even considered cooking a meal in that kitchen that evening.

Her sister had known the moment she'd called that something was wrong. Fallon had shrugged off her concern and pretended to be calling just to check in. They discussed the fact that her sister's girls had been trying to dress Maggie (the dog) in princess outfits all afternoon and laughed about Maggie's plans to take them all to doggie court.

After a few moments, Lydia cut to the chase and told Fallon to tell her what was upsetting her. Fallon told her all about preparing the meal and Seeley not eating one bite of it before he had to run out. She complained about Seeley spending so much time worrying about and checking in on his partner. She confessed that she knew he was just doing his job and being a good friend, but she said she couldn't help wishing she had Seeley's undivided attention.

"You don't think he's cheating, do you?" Lydia couldn't stop herself from asking. Her sister had complained about this "partner" of Seeley's before. She was convinced the woman meant bad news for her sister's rejuvenated relationship.

Fallon felt guilty hearing the accusation in her sister's tone. She knew her boyfriend wasn't cheating. She just wished she felt more secure about where they stood, "No. Seeley wouldn't. But this is worse. They're so close… too close. But I can't say anything to him about her. Their relationship is sacred. And she pretty much hates me for barging in the way I did. Plus she knows about Pete…. Seeley told her."

"Well, he's in your bed every night. He's dating you. If they didn't figure things out in all the years before you got there, then I think it's safe for you to stop worrying about them ever getting any closer."

Fallon knew that her sister was right. She just had to play her cards right and be patient. Seeley was worth the effort. He was the kind of guy she'd be an idiot to let get away twice. She ignored the way her gut told her that things weren't like the last time. She knew she was giving him credit for being able to be that kind of doting companion—the way he'd been when they dated the first time. She knew she was lucky to have another chance. Hearing her sister say those same things gave her the courage to bear down and try harder since Seeley was so distracted with the case.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Barely pausing long enough to put the SUV in park after barreling across town, Booth bolted from the car and rushed into the gym. The facility was fairly quiet. There were officers taking statements from the last of the people who'd been there working out earlier. Ignoring the attempts of the agents on duty to tell him what had happened, Booth searched around frantically and was distressed that he remained unable to locate his partner. In his urgent race to find her, he rounded a corner and entered the office. His blood ran cold when he saw the blood splattered over the shirt his partner had been wearing.

"Bones…," he half-whispered, relief not an adequate word to describe the way he felt seeing that she was alive and safe. But the shock of finding her and seeing that she'd been injured and simultaneously processing the risks she'd faced halted him where he stood. He'd stopped mid-step and half-staggered.

Brennan watched her partner rush into the room. He took a step and stopped abruptly. She remembered that he'd looked that same way the night he'd been shot as she'd been singing Cyndi Lauper's song. She rose and moved toward him, aching for his worry. She could read all the signs of acute stress in him. His breathing was irregular, and she could see his pulse thumping at his temple. His face was contorted and he was blinking back tears, reminding her of that night on the steps when she'd told him she wouldn't take a shot and date him. She had to give him some privacy so that he could calm down. She knew he didn't want anyone else seeing how upset he was at a crime scene.

"Give us the room, guys," Brennan used the term appropriately and spoke with enough authority to command a response. The trainer and the agents left the office and closed the door behind them.

The moment they left the room, he rushed to her and pulled her into his arms. "God, Bones…," he whispered, suddenly overcome with emotion. This was that hug he'd always told her he'd ask for when scared-even though he hadn't had to ask.

"I'm fine, Booth. This is just a scratch. It wasn't him. He didn't do this. I slipped."

"I'm so glad you're okay," he whispered into her hair as he held onto her tightly. For a few moments, she just relaxed and let him crush her in his warm, strong arms. But after those first few moments, it became painful to allow him to surround her and comfort her so tenderly. Slowly, she extricated herself from his embrace.

He ached to pull her back into his arms even though the cop in him was already screaming to know details and to be unleashed upon the morons who'd allowed this to happen to his partner. But for a few extra moments he just stood there and stared at her. He opened his mouth and closed it a few times before he said anything stupid. He wanted to ask her if she had any idea how terrified he'd been receiving that call. But he knew that if he asked her that question, he'd keep going. He'd ask her if she knew that it would literally kill him if anything happened to her—especially if she were hurt badly because of him. He knew that she already understood what he couldn't bring himself to say, but he had to fight the urge to unburden himself on her. He'd already made her cry. He'd already upset her enough to send her running to her father for consolation. He'd done enough damage.

"Your arm," he finally choked out in a voice that didn't sound at all like his own, "is it really okay?"

"The emergency medical technician placed a few stitches in the wound. It's been cleaned thoroughly and bandaged sufficiently. It should heal normally. I don't anticipate any problems."

She watched him watch her carefully as she spoke. The tension in his eyes relaxed slightly as he listened to her speak clinically about her condition. She knew he needed just a little bit more from her, "I'm fine, Booth. It doesn't even hurt."

He sighed audibly. He'd held his breath practically since he'd left his apartment. Releasing that air loosened his grip on his emotions. He looked up at her, tears of relief and worry about her barely concealed. He looked down, rubbed his eyes pretending he wasn't hiding tears, and then took another deep breath.

Sensing his need for closer contact but not brave enough to fall back into his arms, she turned and seated herself on the desk right beside him. He sat down, too. They both looked everywhere but at each other, but the gentle way that their shoulders met and touched as they spoke brought a measure of comfort to both of them.

"I was finishing my work on the elliptical machine and getting ready to run a few laps. I decided to stop by the restroom for a break. On my way back into the gym, I noticed the receptionist lying on the floor. She was unconscious. I suspected that she'd suffered a head injury. Atop her body was an envelope. I… I noticed that it was addressed to me."

She paused then, knowing that he'd learn the truth anyway but dreading his reaction. "I threw my phone to a gentleman crossing the hallway and instructed him to call 9-1-1. Then I leapt up and ran out after him. I almost caught him, Booth. He's very fit and younger than I am. I gave his description to the officers already. If I hadn't tripped over that block in the alley, I might have been able to take him down." She didn't try to hide the regret in her voice. She knew that he understood her need to bring an end to the madness this case was inflicting upon all of them.

She expected him to yell. She expected blatant fury. She braced for both as Booth realized that she'd run unarmed after the serial killer. Instead, he just sat there for a very long moment. Booth was perfectly still and absolutely silent. She couldn't even hear him breathing.

It was as if they'd both become acutely aware of the other in a new way as they'd sat there quietly. Brennan realized that Booth seemed even stronger and more dangerous somehow when he sat still like that. She shuddered, suddenly newly aware that she was sitting near him in only her workout bra and pants. The flicker of her slight movement set him off like a charge.

She should not have been surprised when he leapt up and left the room abruptly. She should not have been shocked to see him tell Rackley to keep him fully informed. She should have expected to see him round up the agents who'd been assigned to protect her and herd them into the locker room. She should have known that she'd be able to hear him banging around smacking lockers with his fist and yelling at the men loudly enough for people outside to wonder what was happening.

She wanted to go in that room and reassure him that the men had been locked in—that the Taker had barricaded them inside the gym using a board threaded through the handles of the doorway. She wanted to tell him that she could have released them but that she hadn't. She wanted to tell him that she'd really run headfirst into danger without any means of protecting herself because she wanted to end this case and stop the pain he was suffering. She wanted to fold him in her arms and promise him that she'd never take another chance like that. But she knew that she couldn't do that. She wouldn't lie to him. She'd leap at her next opportunity to catch this killer even if Booth hated her for doing it.

So fighting the urge to intervene or to pull Booth outside and send him home or to do something equally as pointless to stop him, she located her gym bag and pulled on a sweatshirt. Then she went over to Rackley to ask if there were any way she could support the forensics team in its work. She ended up helping collect and store most of the samples they were sending to the laboratory as evidence.

She'd been there trying not to watch Booth's reaction as he'd listened to someone read the note that had been left for her.

"You can't be careful enough. I want you to sweat knowing that I could take you at any moment. You should suffer for working with such a heartless, inept man. He can't keep you safe, and you can't solve this case. You both deserve what I have planned for you."

Although he did not speak directly to her the rest of the time they were at the gym, she felt Booth's gaze upon her frequently. He was never out of sight for very long. He demanded that Rackley replace her surveillance team and stumbled around generally annoying everyone else there who had a job to do.

Over time, they pieced together the facts about how The Taker had tracked Bones to her gym. They had reports from more than one gym member of a strange man lurking around in the parking lot and in the back hallways. Bones had given an extremely precise physical description of the man—although he'd had a mask pulled on when she'd gotten close enough to see him in detail. She'd seen enough to comment on his cranial structure and stature—more than anyone else would have been able to tell them. The agents stuck inside the gym had added other details about the man's build and his actions as they'd watched Dr. Brennan chase him outside. Thanks to their calls to Rackley, the FBI team had arrived within moments—quickly enough to attend to Dr. Brennan right after her fall and to search the trail The Taker had left behind before it became corrupted. The note seemed to indicate that the man had not intended to kidnap Dr. Brennan that evening. Unfortunately, its contents clearly documented his intent to torment Booth more the longer he went without capture.

At some point later when everything was being packed back up, Booth moved silently to her side and just stood there. She recognized his nonverbal request that she assemble her belongings so that he could drive her home. Without consulting her, he told the new surveillance team that Dr. Brennan required Air Force One-level protection and directed one of them to drive her car back to her apartment and secure it.

Still without speaking to her, he helped her into the SUV and walked around to drive her home. Waiting patiently for his own surveillance staff to fall into place with hers to accompany them on the drive, Booth cranked the car and pulled out to drive through the dark city streets.

At her apartment building, he slipped out of the car and walked around to open her door for her. She waited, concerned enough by his silence to allow him to be overprotective of her. He walked her inside, pausing long enough to ask the night watchman to be even more vigilant about her safety before slipping onto the elevator to accompany her to her home.

Ignoring her silent protest, he entered her apartment, checked it room-by room, and walked back out to nod to her that it was secure. Then he walked closer to her and stood there staring down at her with an emotion-filled gaze.

"That's as close as he's getting to you, Bones. No more chances. No more sneaking around. No more chasing after serial killers without me there and running in front of you. Got it?"

She nodded, biting back her arguments that he was being too dramatic and asking too much of her. She watched him search her eyes again to make sure she wasn't lying to him before he pressed past her and left her alone in her apartment. The enormity of his concern for her made it difficult for her to breathe. She could feel his worry and his fears wafting off of him and reaching out as if they might better protect her. She knew there was nothing she could say to alleviate his worries. But she determined that she would refrain from any action that might cause him additional distress.

Before he closed and locked the door himself, he spoke quietly to her. "Call me for anything. You don't need a reason to call me, Bones."

And then he was gone.


	20. Chapter 20

_**[A/N: I have been swamped for weeks, and life and work show no signs of letting up. Please know that I need the stress relief of writing more than anyone needs to read anything I write. So when I find time, I promise I'll update this story. Sadly, I have only notes for the rest of this story—no more banked chapters to throw out when I'm too busy to write. Thanks for being patient with the markedly slow pace of coming updates.**_

_**In case you've forgotten where our last chapter ended, The Taker had just gotten very close to getting to Bones at her gym. Booth's a wreck over that—naturally.]**_

Chapter 20—The Hour for Honesty

Even as he drove over there, Booth had been trying to convince himself to go anywhere else but back to Bones' apartment. He was in no shape to see her. Hell, he was in no shape for much of anything. The stress of the case and the ongoing drama with his partner and his half-assed attempt at a relationship with Fallon were starting to wear on him. He wasn't thinking clearly, and he was screwing up everything he touched. Going to see Bones would only heap more problems onto the enormous pile of crap he'd made of everything lately. So logically he should go back to the office or to a hotel or to Evan's apartment or somewhere else—anywhere else.

But he'd never been the logical person in the partnership. So where did he go? Straight to the ledge at the top of the volcano, of course. Nope. Nobody could but Fallon could justifiably call him a coward. He seemed hell-bent on bringing on the agony. It was as if he were now unable to stop forcing himself to confront his insecurities and fears and problems—even knowing that doing so would hurt him or whoever else was there near him.

He didn't call his partner. He didn't send a text. He just showed up unannounced at her door as he had so many times before. He reassured himself as he spoke to the night watchman and to Bones' security team that she was fine. He even convinced himself that she wouldn't slam the door in his face.

Momentarily lulled into a more relaxed state, he rapped lightly on her door. After waiting patiently for her to respond, he knocked again more loudly and tried to slow his now-racing pulse. Rationally, he had no reason for alarm. She just hadn't heard him. She wasn't expecting anyone. But after a few moments that seemed years long, he pounded on the door so loudly that a neighbor down the hall looked out to see what was making the noise.

When he still got no response, Booth glared at the security detail to warn them that Bones had better be okay and pulled out his key, slipping it into the lock and nodding for the other agent to unlock the door for him. Pulling out his weapon and preparing to rush in, he nodded for the agent to let him into the apartment.

In the near silence, Booth crept into the apartment on full alert, his heart racing and his gut telling him that something was terribly wrong. He saw nothing moving and heard only silence. Motioning for the other agents to check her back rooms, Booth snuck around toward Bones' kitchen.

He froze when he saw Bones standing perfectly still staring toward the open door of her balcony. Something about her posture was off. She was rigid in her stance but had her arms crossed in front of her. In his frantic rush to protect her, he reached the conclusion that someone must be out on her balcony pointing a weapon at her through the open door. Slipping closer still undetected, he leapt in front of her fully prepared to take the bullet he knew would be waiting.

But in that instant when he realized that no danger had been awaiting Bones, he felt the impact of her right foot kicking him hard just above the back of his right knee. He stumbled from her first adept kick and was then hit with another one of her spinning martial arts moves. He was flat on his stomach and hurting all over by the time he heard Benton rush over to stop Bones from killing him.

Booth's heart broke when he heard her sharp but haggard intake of breath as she realized that he'd been the intruder she'd considered crippling. He heard Benton whisper to her, and he felt more than heard her when the man released her from his tight grip.

Temperance rushed to her partner and started rolling him over so that she might examine him, his injuries. She was so focused on helping him that she didn't see the emotional expression on his face or notice the way that he was looking up at her as if seeing her clearly for the first time. Suddenly struck by images of both, her anger flared. She grabbed him by the front of his jacket and gripped it tightly, shaking him as she growled at him in frustration, "What the hell are you doing here, Booth? What are you doing sneaking in here and nearly getting one or both of us killed? Why? Why are you here?"

There was an edge to her voice that she'd been unable to hide. Her fury and frustration and relief and anxiety and shock and surprise had collided and kept the unusually composed woman from staying calm and reacting in a controlled manner. Stunned realizing how the agents standing behind her might interpret her outburst, she released her tight hold on Booth's jacket and stood quickly, carefully hiding her effort to clear her face or tears and abruptly yanking out the earphones that had kept her from hearing his approach.

In true Brennan style, she crafted the perfect excuse for the men to leave her apartment, "Thank you gentlemen for working hard to protect me. As you know, Agent Booth does not present a threat. Given that he would probably prefer for you not to witness any more of his embarrassment at being physically overpowered by a female civilian, it would be appropriate for you to return your posts now."

Mumbling acceptance and excuses, the men turned and left the apartment, stopping only to leave Booth's keys to her apartment on the table near the door and to kick his bag inside before closing the door behind them.

It was as if their departure had sucked all of the oxygen out of her apartment. Temperance found that she was suddenly quite unable to breathe normally. Refusing to look down at her partner where he still lay immobilized and silent, she made her way soundlessly into the kitchen and retrieved an ice pack from the refrigerator. She walked over without speaking and dropped it unceremoniously on his abdomen before striding out of the room and into her room, closing the door behind her.

As he sat up slowly and assessed the damage done, Booth realized that he'd survive but that he'd be sore for days because of the way Bones had taken him down. He'd barely missed hitting his head on the doorframe as he fell. Unprepared to brace himself, he'd knocked his left cheek pretty hard on the floor. He knew he'd have a bruise if not an outright shiner from that alone. Grimacing from the pain shooting up from his right knee where she'd taken him down, he stretched his leg enough to realize that the damage wouldn't be permanent but that he wouldn't be winning any footraces for a week or so. As he stood up slowly, he realized that his shoulder hurt pretty badly from that roundhouse kick she'd delivered to knock him down, but he'd bet that was only a deep bruise, too. Bones had done a number on him, but he realized that he was pretty lucky not to have broken bones or a concussion.

He also realized that he was in better physical than emotional shape. Relieved as he was about his relatively good physical condition, Booth was suddenly overcome with emotion as he remembered what he'd witnessed when he'd finally glanced back and seen Bones as she'd kicked him. What he'd originally imagined had been terror or fear in her earlier stance had been anything but. She'd been sad. Bones had been standing there crying and listening to music.

Guilt washed over him afresh. He realized now that Max had been honest with him. Bones was upset—she'd been troubled enough to reach out to her father for emotional support. Knowing what it would take for her to make that overture, Booth's gut spun on him. As terribly as he'd screwed up his arrival, he knew now that he was glad that he'd come over. He'd put aside his own troubles and be there for Bones - be her friend when she needed one, be whatever she needed. He just hoped that she'd let him.

Moving slowly on achy limbs, he slipped the icepack back into the refrigerator and made his way slowly down the hallway toward her room. It would serve him right if he had a mark on his face tomorrow. Leaving her alone and sad without anyone to talk to was deserving of a beating stronger than the one he'd endured. Taking care of Bones now was all that mattered. She was all that mattered.

Shaking his head and trying to channel his flagging energy, he rapped lightly on the door to her room. He winced when he heard her say, "Go away, Booth."

In that moment, she hated him for being there, hated him for frightening her so, hated him for making her care so much about him even when he'd hurt her so badly. Unable to will her tears to subside, she attempted to turn him away, hoping that he'd listen to her and leave out of guilt.

Putting his hand on the doorknob but not yet ready to turn it and let himself in, Booth replied softly, "No."

He ached as he heard her sniffle and swipe at tears she clearly did not want him to witness. Hesitant but determined, he turned the knob and opened the door. He glanced around quickly and didn't see his partner. His heart sank when he saw her seated on the floor beside the door of the room, her head down on her folded arms she held propped on her bent knees.

Struck by more emotion than even he had expected seeing her there so upset, he entered the room silently and walked past her, leaning against the wall near her and sliding down to sit on the floor beside her. He hesitated only for a moment before extending his left arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him. He'd expected a struggle from her and was momentarily stunned when she melted into his supportive embrace.

Mumbling reassurances to her and ignoring the physical pain his actions invoked, he turned and scooped her up, lifting her so that she was sitting across his lap. He wrapped her tightly in his arms and held on desperately. Stunned that she didn't resist, he simply held her close, reveling in and drawing strength from the simplicity and innocent comfort of their mutual silent contact.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After a very long time, Brennan sat up and examined his swollen tissue above his zygomatic arch, instantly shifting into medical mode, "You should put the ice pack on that injury to prevent further swelling."

"No. I'm fine, Bones," he said, emboldened by the time spent just sitting there and holding her and supporting her through her pain. Wordlessly, they'd been there for one another. And holding her seemed to reconcile his heart and her brain in a way they'd both missed for far too long.

"I'll go get one," she began, but his tight grip on her body kept her from rising as intended.

"No. Stay here. We need to talk, Bones. We've both got metaphorical injuries far worse than the physical damage you did to me out there. Stay."

She strained against him, determined not to let his sudden honesty throw her and make her emotional again. "Booth, let me get up."

"Will you talk to me, Bones?" he pled with her.

She made eye contact for a long moment and then nodded, turning away as soon as he released his tight hold on her.

Booth followed her out to the kitchen and accepted the icepack she offered to him. Then they both walked over and sat on opposite ends of her sofa.

As the chill of the icepack shocked his swollen skin, Booth sat staring at a random spot on the coffee table and finally facing all the damage he'd done. This was a mess. They were a mess. They'd been circling around the failed relationship that had never officially begun for months, for more than a year. One of them would advance and the other would pull away. They'd been picking at scabs and inflicting new wounds until they were hardly recognizable as the strong, supportive team they'd instinctively become so long ago.

He saw things more clearly now. It was as if Bones had knocked some sense or some clarity into him with that kick that threw him face first onto her floor. For so long, he'd been the one approaching her, asking her, begging her to give him a chance. He'd been so deeply wounded by her refusal to accept him and what he'd been offering. Bones knew him better than anyone else and if she couldn't accept him, couldn't trust him, then he'd never find anyone who could.

But then she'd finally reached out to him, admitted that she loved him, come so very close to asking him to take a chance with her. And he'd responded as she had before - rejecting her and telling her he couldn't take a chance on her because she wasn't fully committed. Why? It certainly hadn't been because of Fallon. It had been because he knew that she'd still been terrified about trying to trust him, because she wouldn't promise it would last forever? But he'd been a hypocrite because he'd felt the same way. This was Bones. She'd just been being honest with him. He knew how much that had cost her. He knew how hard she had tried to do what it would take to give them a chance. From anyone else, her actions might have seemed jealous or desperate or less than enough. But he knew her open heart. He also knew that, had he seemed happy and in love and bound to Fallon, she'd have supported him — supported them — no matter what it cost her.

Why hadn't he been able to see it before — pride, fear, stubbornness? If this had been anything else, Bones would have compartmentalized her feelings by now. In her own stunted way, she was showing him how much he meant to her — how much she wanted to be with him. Her inability to move past her pain, her outreach to her father, her failure to compartmentalize in that way that she had perfected—all those things were signs of her love for him and proof that it was as real as what he'd always felt for her—what he still felt for her. He'd just been too wounded and stubborn and afraid to recognize it until that moment.

"I'm sorry," he choked out, overwhelmed by emotion.

She looked at him, fresh tears starting to become visible in the corners of her eyes.

He turned at looked at her, his pain visible in worry lines and stormy shadows swirling in those normally clear brown eyes of his.

"I can't blame the case or the stress or things with Fallon… I've hurt you, Bones. Me. I did this. I've pushed you away when it was the last thing I wanted. I… I've been just as scared as you have. I haven't really given you a chance to trust me because I've done nothing but kick you in the gut every time you tried. I questioned your motives and your commitment because I couldn't understand or admit to my own. I'm so very sorry."

"I don't understand. I don't know what that means," she replied evenly—as she had too many times before, too many to count.

He smiled at her as much as his wounded heart would allow. "I could kick you and knock you to the ground if you want. You doing that to me seemed to make everything clear to me."

The joke fell flat but her puzzled expression was so damned adorable that he relaxed just a little bit. Asking her permission with his eyes, he moved closer, sliding over next to her on the sofa and dropping the icepack onto the rug. Taking her right hand in his own, he looked up at her and searched her eyes for signs that he hadn't damaged her too much, that he hadn't broken what he'd always thought had been their unbreakable connection.

"I've hurt everyone by trying to break away, trying to move on, trying to pretend that this—that just sitting and talking to you like this... isn't all I want, all I need, Bones."

She swallowed hard and tried to look away, but he held her gaze. Terrified as he appeared to be, he didn't look away.

"I'm sick of pretending. I'm tired of fighting against what I feel. I'm exhausted from trying to pretend that I ever gave things with Fallon half a chance. How could I, Bones? How could I really be with her, be committed to her when I'm still in love with you?"

Upon hearing his words, she gasped and pulled her hand back so that she could stand up and escape him, put space between them so that she could think, so that she could breathe.

"Don't run away from me, Temperance. Not now. Not ever again. I need you too damned much."

Overwhelmed by emotion, she turned her head away and tried to ignore the warmth and support he seemed to be pouring into the way that he now gripped her hand with both of his.

"Just listen to me, Bones. Let me try to tell you how I feel. Let me apologize… or start to apologize. Please don't run away. Not now. Please?"

Still looking away, she nodded, still trying to hide her tears.

"Fallon knows, Bones. She knows that I still love you. She knows that I never stopped. I've just been hurting both of you by trying to be with her."

And with that, he started explaining what had happened earlier that night to her.

_Booth's hands had still been shaky when he'd returned home later that night after making sure Bones had been safe at her apartment. He was barely holding it together - not that he'd talk to anyone about what a wreck he was. But he couldn't deny that Bones' close call had rattled him to the depths of his soul._

_He'd gone back to the Hoover building and gotten caught up in combing through all of the files and reviewing all the staff assignments. Rackley, taking the rare but long overdue opportunity to throw his weight around as agent-in-charge of the case, had finally sent Booth home. He'd told the man that he was being disruptive and rude and slowing them down instead of helping them. Booth had taken an aggressive step toward the man as if to argue and had just as suddenly turned on his heel and headed back to his office when he realized that Rackley had been right._

_He knew that he'd been being an ass to everyone working on the case. He knew that he needed to go home to check on Fallon and to calm down. He knew that he needed to apologize to her for leaving when she'd obviously worked hard to make a nice dinner. He knew that there was nothing he could do there at the office. _

_But he didn't feeling like doing any of the things that he should have been doing because he couldn't go do what he truly wanted to do. His every instinct and impulse was telling him to drive to Bones' apartment and make sure she was okay. His gut was telling him to go over there and talk to her about how he was feeling completely crazy and missing her more than he ever had in Afghanistan. He wanted to go over there and to thank her for putting up with him being all-the-hell-over-the-place with her without any reasonable explanation for the way that he had alternated between hugging her and clinging to her like some kind of girl and screaming at her when she had only been trying to help him. _

_He needed for Bones to understand the sheer insanity he'd experienced that night upon hearing that The Taker had been anywhere near her. He felt compelled to confess that he was crazy and weak and scared and unable to decide what he needed to do. He knew that, crazy as he'd sound trying to explain half of what he was thinking to Bones that she'd listen to him and try to understand. His gut rolled miserably as he realized that he'd love her even more for that._

_As much as he adored her, the woman made him completely crazy. She'd thrown herself out after a serial killer in an attempt to bring him closure and peace. Oh sure, she'd wanted to stop the sicko from killing anyone else and she'd wanted to solve the case, but he knew better than to pretend that most of the risk she'd taken hadn't been for his sake. The thought made him nauseated — even as he admitted that he'd willingly do the same for her over and over again._

_He was frozen by his conflicting thoughts. He was paralyzed at work and unable to solve a case that he should have been able to understand better than anyone else, worried about his friends and family, driven out of his mind whenever he thought about Bones, and fairly well certain he had all but deserted his girlfriend. _

_Realizing that wallowing in his problems wasn't being productive, Booth had left the office, dialing Bones and her security detail both as he left the building and again as he reached his apartment without even realizing what his never-ending obsession with her safety might mean._

_He'd gone inside his apartment and tried his best to apologize to Fallon for missing the meal she'd made for them to share. But when he'd barely picked at the leftovers she'd warmed for him, Fallon had finally snapped, finally getting brave enough to call him out about his obvious obsession with his partner. _

_Booth had gotten defensive even though he knew that Fallon had been more than justified in accusing him. They'd both lost their tempers and argued loudly. She'd accused him of cheating on her, and he'd fired back defensively that she was asking too much from him—that he'd been honest with her about his feelings for his partner. That he'd never misled her._

_Furious, Fallon had shot back that he was a coward and that she knew that he wasn't being honest with his partner about those feelings. She told him that he was too afraid of Brennan's rejection to make a move and stick to it. That he didn't deserve either woman._

_So struck by the truth in her accusation that he couldn't speak, a seriously distressed Booth had left the room and quickly packed a bag. Then he had left the apartment. He had shrugged off Fallon's attempt to stop him, and he had ignored her tears. He had also ignored the way that Fallon had pled with him to talk to her. He had ignored the fact that he knew he should apologize to her — because she'd said so much truth to him. He'd known that she deserved at least that much, but the fight and the ability to talk things out had simply drained out of him. He'd had to leave. He'd done so with only one destination in mind._

_As he left the apartment, he had briefly turned to Fallon and apologized. He'd told her he was sorry, that he knew he wasn't being fair to her, and that he'd talk to her once they both cooled down. He apologized again for ruining the dinner and told her to stay safe and to call him if she went anywhere._

_She'd watched as he'd strode quickly to the stairwell and entered it without bothering to look back at her again. She'd known without any doubt where he'd been going._

"The thought that I don't deserve either of you hit home. I realized then that I really need to break things off with her—because the thought of losing her didn't hurt as much, didn't knock me to my knees, didn't cut off my air supply. But when I thought about losing you, Bones. When I thought that I didn't deserve you and that I'd lost you… all those things happened. It hurt me physically. I couldn't breathe. You're the one I can't live without. It's you. It's always been you."

"Booth," she managed through her tears.

"I don't care if you're scared or if you can't commit to me past five minutes from now, Bones. You're the one I want. I've done everything to screw that up, and I'm sorry. But if I haven't lost you… if you'll still give us a chance, then I'm all in. I don't care if you're scared. I don't care if you can't trust me or if you want time to think about what to do. I just… I just need a chance to fix this… fix us… show you how much I care and how I'll do everything I can to give us a chance to be happy… to be together… to be whatever you'll commit to being - with me."

"But you said I didn't love you… or trust you enough. I haven't changed.…"

"You don't have to change, Bones. That's the whole thing that's been screwed up here. I don't want you to change. I'll take you trying to be with me even if you're scared and you don't trust me. I'm scared, too. But I'll take whatever you'll give me. It'll be enough. You're enough…. just the way you are and the way you feel right now."

His words made her angry. It was too late. He was too desperate. Booth was just reaching out to her because he thought he was losing his girlfriend, "You had a fight with your girlfriend. You're just reaching out to me because you're losing her."

The intensity of his expression stunned her into complete stillness, "No. What I feel… what I felt for her isn't even close to what we share, Bones — even when we're fighting and can't be together. I had to come here first and tell you that I'm making you my priority. Because you always have been… you always should have been. Fallon's not the one I worry about most, she's not the one I lose sleep over, she's not the woman who haunts my dreams and most of my waking thoughts. She never could be. There just wasn't room in my heart for her. It's full of you. Only you."

"Booth… We keep having these discussions, and I just don't know how much more of this I can take. Relationships shouldn't be this difficult. This shouldn't be so hard… so painful."

"I know. It never should have been. I should have fought for you Bones. When you left for Maluku, I chickened out. I should have chased you down then and made you stay with me. We should have worked it out then. I know this is screwed up, but tell me it's not too late. Tell me that I'm the one you were crying about tonight, Bones. Tell me that you still miss me a fraction of the way that I miss you."

She looked at him for a long moment trying to conjure up enough stamina to send him away. But she couldn't. She nodded through her tears, and he pulled her into his arms, holding her as they both shed silent tears.

Sometime later, they pulled back and he brushed the newly fallen tears from her cheeks. She looked up at him, so many emotions were swirling in her eyes that he was dizzy from finding a tiny glimpse of hope mixed in there.

"What does this mean, Booth?"

He smiled and kissed her forehead before pulling back to look at her intently. "It means that I love you, Temperance Brennan. It means that you and I are going to work together to rebuild our friendship and our trust. And that maybe… if we both still want it, we can finally try for so much more."

"But you're in another relationship…."

"Not anymore. I wasn't really ever committed to it. I just kept telling myself I had to move on. But I couldn't."

"I don't want you to give up your chance at happiness for me."

"Don't you see, Bones? That's what I've been doing! I've been telling myself to go out with Fallon and try for something different. That was wrong because I knew… I knew that I'd be settling with anyone else. And I did it anyway. I can't be happy settling, Bones. I don't even want to try that anymore."

"But how do you know that I won't run away or change my mind or that I'm even equipped for or capable of what you're talking about?"

"I don't care about that, Bones. I trust you enough that I know you'll try. That's all I'm asking. If you really try to give us a chance, and if I show you how much I want one… a chance to be happy with you, then I don't think we can go wrong."

Almost unable to believe it could be that simple, she locked her gaze on his, searching his eyes for a sign that she'd misunderstood him, "You just want me to try."

"That's it. That's all I'm asking," Booth thought his heart would explode in the silence as he waited for her to respond.

She looked up at him, her fierce strength and determination suddenly aligned with her heart's desire for him, "I think… I think I can do that."

"I know you can, Bones. I need to go talk to Fallon. I need to break it off. She knows it's coming. All I need is the time to do that, Bones. Then I'll give you anything you need from me. From the time I hit your floor over there, you've been all I could think about because it's the way it's supposed to be. I just hate it took all this pain to realize that. I'm sorry I ever tried looking anywhere else."

"Booth…."

"Shhh….," he whispered, folding her into his arms, "We've got plenty of time to figure everything out, Bones. It's really late. Let's get some sleep and I'll go talk to Fallon in the morning. Everything will be okay, I promise."

And with those words, he moved over to the other end of the sofa and stretched his arm out toward her, smiling warmly as she slid over next to him and allowed him to pull her into his arms. He held her tenderly against his chest and she snuggled into his warmth as they both fell into the most peaceful slumber either of them had experienced in months.

_**[A/N: For those of you who read "Double Standard," that story was completely spur of the moment and intended to be a one-shot. I'm thinking about extending it and have a few ideas, but I'm not yet sure about whether to write more there.]**_


	21. Chapter 21

_**[A/N: Like many of you, my infatuation with Bones grew exponentially after this week's episode. Wow. Those people who write for that show on TV are geniuses. And Mr. Boreanaz's performance at the end of "Daredevil" blows me away more the more I watch it. **_

_**Writing a disclaimer here seems inappropriate—I'd never own anything as good as Bones, but I do adore it!]**_

Chapter 21—Tragedy in the Timing

2:30 a.m.

The phone in Booth's apartment rang loudly, interrupting the apartment's only occupant's heavy slumber. Sleepy and disoriented, Fallon answered the call. She sat straight up in bed when she heard who was calling. She asked a few questions and received whispered answers in return.

Then, hesitating only briefly, she threw on a pair of jeans and a blouse, grabbed her jacket, and snuck out the window and down the fire escape so as not to alert her security team. She was in a hurry to get across town to meet a co-worker from the ATF task force. He said they'd finally gotten a break in the case about The Taker, and he'd asked her not to bring the troops with her so as not to draw attention to their meeting place.

She'd barely paused to consider doing anything than what he suggested. Danger or not, if there was anything she could do to bring that creep of a kidnapper in, Fallon was damned well going to do it.

6:30 a.m.

Brian Rackley had fallen asleep at his desk—again. He'd been logging so many hours lately that he hardly noticed the difference between day and night. He'd been working double-time to find this serial killer and had started bringing two changes of clothes every time he went to the office just in case he didn't make it home for several days. More often than not, he worked through both sets of clothing before finding his way back to his apartment. He was hoping that he'd end up with commendations and the gratitude of his superiors. He even figured he'd have the respect of one of the bureau's top agents if he brought this guy in and set things back to normal for everyone around there and at the Jeffersonian. This particular morning he had slipped into an awkward slumber upon his crossed arms on the desktop blotter after a night of plotting new strategies for identifying leads until 3:15 a.m. When the chirp of his cell phone roused the man, Rackley wiped spittle from one corner of his mouth and answered the call.

All exhaustion and fatigue vanished as he listened to the lead on Patterson's security detail. They'd gone inside Booth's apartment at 6:15 a.m. when Patterson hadn't come out on time. They'd found the apartment empty and the window to the fire escape unlocked and slightly open.

6:48 a.m.

Uneasy from the enormity of the night's revelations and a bit skittish maneuvering around her apartment with her partner there in the morning for the first time in ages, Brennan flinched when her cell phone rang.

She'd woken earlier that morning to the unfamiliar sound of her shower running for someone else. Booth had gotten up early, put on a pot of coffee, set a travel mug filled with the warm caffeinated beverage on the table beside her sofa, and made his way into her bathroom to get ready for his workday. She'd pretended to be asleep when Booth had returned to her living room. She'd feigned sleep still as he sat on the edge of the sofa and roused her gently. As if he'd been expecting her to be uneasy, Booth smiled at her in a very friendly way and mumbled something about making her breakfast. Rising slowly, she'd stretched and padded toward her room, mumbling a sleepy "Thanks" as she passed her partner who was rifling through her kitchen cabinets for the pans he needed to make breakfast for them.

Her mind still filled with her partner's declarations from the night before, Brennan found that she remained interested in stalling about facing him even after her shower. It would be nothing but awkward to pretend that she hadn't spent the night cradled in his warm embrace, that she hadn't considered turning around and capturing his lips with her own so that she might lay claim to that strong body that had held her attention for years now. She had too much integrity to cheat, and she'd known that Booth wouldn't, but it hadn't been easy to just lie there with him and pretend that she didn't ache for a deeper physical intimacy even though there were so many emotional barriers to keep that from being a real option.

She shook her head as she ruminated on the fact that it was her feelings she wanted to hide more than her attraction to her partner. Booth's words had broken down her carefully crafted defenses. She wasn't sure that she had the energy or the wherewithal to keep a safe distance from him and just be his partner. However, the thought of being closer and more intimate than that terrified her even more than trying to put up a front. Avoiding him was so much easier than either of the other two options.

Afraid to think about what she'd feel if Booth's declarations from the night before didn't withstand the light of day, she took her time packing things in her satchel. She'd been grateful that he seemed almost as shell-shocked and silent as she felt after their tear-filled conversation the night before.

Despite her earlier determination to keep her distance, as soon as the phone rang, she wished she had run straight into her partner's arms and told him to damn the consequences—that they'd waited long enough. Stunned hearing Rackley's voice on her line, Brennan listened carefully and followed his instructions to meet Agent Perotta at Booth's apartment. As much as she hated misleading Booth about where she was going, she realized that it was the appropriate course of action since she had no evidence to support her nagging fears. After meeting Booth in the kitchen and getting his reassurance that he was headed straight to the office, she lied and told him she was going to the lab. Trying not to look disappointed that she was clearly avoiding him, he promised to call her later—after he'd had a chance to talk to Fallon.

Booth noticed that Bones looked worried, and he stopped her before she could leave the apartment. "Are you okay, Bones?"

"I'm fine," she said as convincingly as she could. "Just tired. I'm needed for something urgent at the lab. I realize that refusing to eat a breakfast cooked by a friend might be construed as rude. I really appreciate the time you took cooking, but I really must go."

As she turned to leave, a concerned Booth followed her toward the door. He was determined to reassure Bones that he wasn't chickening out or changing his mind—not about them, never again about them. "I've been calling her since quarter to six," he said, placing a hand upon her arm gently. "She must have gone to work early today. I'll try to talk to her tonight. This isn't the kind of thing you can say to someone at the office," he said honestly, his eyes searching hers for understanding. "You can trust me, Bones. I meant what I said last night. I'm ending it with her. I want a chance to earn your trust back."

"I never stopped trusting you, Booth," Brennan replied honestly.

His heart warmed from the simplicity of her statement and the loyalty it conveyed.

"Thanks, Bones. I know this is a lot to think about. But everything will be okay. One thing at a time. I'll talk to Fallon and then you and I can talk some more, okay?"

She surprised him by launching herself into his arms. She clung to him tightly—so much so that he was encouraged by her willingness to do so. She was relieved that he seemed to relax after that embrace. Smiling as best she could, she left the apartment and nodded for her security detail to follow her. Then she drove across town to get what she knew would have to be bad news.

7:26 a.m.

Upon Dr. Brennan's arrival at Booth's apartment, Agent Perotta filled her in on what had happened. Fallon's cell phone had been located outside the parking deck near ATF headquarters. They were pulling up security camera videotapes, but they could only assume that she'd snuck out in the middle of the night to meet someone there and that The Taker had kidnapped her from that location. Fred Sovitch, another ATF agent, was also missing. He and his 8 year-old daughter had disappeared the day before after a soccer game. Fred's cell phone had not been located, but they were beginning to assume that he'd been the one to call her and that the phone had been dumped somewhere afterward.

Agents from both FBI and ATF were swarming around any and all leads, but nobody felt good about this. Everyone was on edge, and nobody wanted to tell Booth that Fallon was missing. Perotta informed Dr. Brennan that Booth had not yet been informed about Patterson's disappearance.

"I'll tell him," Brennan said in an unsteady voice as she reached to pull her cell phone out of her bag.

"Don't. Not over the phone. He'll get in his SUV and drive here, Dr. Brennan. Let him get to headquarters. Sweets will distract him until we can get over there to tell him. He'll tell him if he has no choice but to do so. But for Booth's safety, let him get there before he hears the news."

Obviously shaken, Temperance replaced her phone and turned to the forensic squad to ask them if she could be of any help at the scene. When Perotta asked her to walk through the apartment and note anything that looked out of place, she nodded and walked away. She noted the irony that they would still assume that she had intimate knowledge of Booth's home and his belongings.

She couldn't, wouldn't allow herself to consider anything other than facts in that moment. She couldn't imagine the guilt Booth would feel over choosing to be there with her and professing his feelings for her while his girlfriend had been kidnapped. No, she reminded herself. She had no evidence that Fallon had been kidnapped. She would refuse to leap to conclusions. There was no vise found or a note to indicate that The Taker had Fallon. It didn't require much of an intuitive leap to arrive at that conclusion, but she would refuse to do so for Booth's sake. Something else had to have happened. For this to be real and as horrible as it appeared would be unimaginably difficult for him. Her heart ached even considering what the impact of all of this on her newly restored sense of hope of working things out with her partner might be.

Temperance walked through the apartment carefully, trying to focus on details of the décor instead of allowing her mind to speculate or her heart to break for her partner. She tried to smile remembering Booth's conversations about hockey pucks and sports jerseys and other popular culture paraphernalia he collected. She tried not to ache as she noticed Fallon's belongings interspersed with Booth's so casually—as if they'd been there forever. Even though her nerves were frayed and she felt uncomfortably emotional, she simply refused to allow herself to consider the pain this whole situation might bring to her. Her breathing was unsteady, but her steps and her eyes were sure. She needed to do this, to help find Fallon.

As she turned and walked into the bedroom, she froze. She watched Agent Perotta reading something.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

_Dear Seeley,_

_I don't want you to feel guilty about going to be with Dr. Brennan instead of staying here with me tonight. I know that you were upset and needed some space. I wanted you to stay here with me, but I understand why you didn't. _

_It's not like me to write to you like this, but after you left tonight, I remembered the love letters you wrote to me years ago and thought that I'd try to leave one for you. I'm not half as good at the mushy stuff as you can be when you're determined to try it, but I'll try to apologize as honestly as I can—hoping that you'll take the gesture the way I mean it. _

_I'm sorry I put you on the spot tonight and said all those things out of jealousy. I know none of this has been easy for you and that you've got enough pressure on you already without me adding to it. _

_Strong and capable as Dr. Brennan is, she's the civilian. She's the one you swore an oath to protect. I'm not naïve enough to think you're just doing your job, but I also know that you don't have a choice not to protect her. I know that you need to be there and be the one to make sure nothing happens to her - because anything happening to her because of this case would kill you. Even though we've been getting closer, I know that she's someone you simply can't risk losing, and you know that I'm okay with that. I also know that I can take care of myself._

_Another reason for writing this down is that I can't see us actually talking about that argument we just had any time soon. You'll need some time to cool off, and I'll need some time to stitch my ego back together. I know that this is complicated, but I know that you haven't made any promises to me, and I understand why you're not here. I hate how insecure and vulnerable I feel about this relationship, but I know that I'm mostly to blame for the distance that still looms between us because of things with Pete and because of the way I surprised you by showing up here unannounced. _

_I know that you'll be honest with me once you figure out your feelings. It's just harder some days than others to wait for that to happen. I only wish your feelings for your partner weren't as strong as they are. I worry that they'll pull us apart. Maybe if I'd been nicer to her. Maybe if I'd gone more out of my way to win her approval. Maybe then we could have gone over there to watch over her together and grown closer together instead of bickering the way we did._

_Or maybe none of those things would have been happened. I think she loves you too much to share you with anyone else. You may doubt that, but my women's intuition tells me that it's true. _

_I want to fight for you, and I won't apologize for doing so. Unless you give me a reason to do otherwise, I'm going to make peace with things as they are and wait for you to settle your own feelings. I'm grateful for this chance, and I'm going to stand beside you until we get through this—no matter who will be there to hold you when this is over._

_If I know you, you'll take one look at this letter and drag me to your bedroom to show me how you feel about me instead of talking about this. Trust me, I won't mind at all—that's my favorite solution to any problem. Making love with you makes me forget that I even have problems._

_I love you, Seeley. I don't think I ever stopped. I'm glad to have this chance to win your heart back, and I'm damned determined to do so. You know how driven and stubborn I am. You'll need all the luck of the Irish to keep your heart from falling for me again. I hope you won't try to fight it. Because I like the woman I am when I'm with you, and I want to be the woman who earns the right to share that loyal, adoring, amazing heart of yours if that's still possible. _

_Even if it's not, you're still worth the effort._

_Love,_

_Fallon_

Swallowing hard imagining how hard reading that letter will be for Booth and how much he'd hate having his privacy infringed upon that deeply, Perotta bagged the letter and put it in her purse to take to Rackley. She decided right then that she'd ask him not to add the letter to the evidence files and to plan to discuss it with Booth after they found Patterson.

8:36 a.m.

What Perotta had not anticipated was that Dr. Brennan would see hear reading the note and demand to read it. When she refused, the scientist argued loudly with her about needing to see it. She even accused her of tampering with evidence and even of kidnapping Patterson.

Realizing that the woman would not back off easily, Perotta tried to reason with her, "Dr. Brennan, you know I have no reason to harm Agent Patterson."

As the woman replied, Perotta observed that Brennan in Booth protection mode was an absolute force of nature. The woman's composure clearly not complete, she gritted her teeth and growled at her, "Professional jealousy, jealousy about her boyfriend. Don't pretend that you're not attracted to Booth. That would be reason enough to suspect you might have done this."

As determined as the genius before her, Perotta shot back, "I'm going to overlook your ridiculous accusations because I respect you, and I know that you're just worried about your partner. But you need to knock it off, or I'll be forced to have you pulled off this case."

Brennan took a step closer, as if considering whether to remove the letter from her bag forcibly, "That would be convenient. Then you could hide more evidence."

Realizing that their conversation was becoming loud and would draw unwelcomed attention, Perotta moved over to close the door and turned to face her angry accuser, "I'm not hiding evidence! This is just something very personal and private that Agent Booth won't want broadcast everywhere. We'll scan it for fingerprints and trace evidence, but the content of this letter is not critical to the case."

Brennan would not be convinced, "How do I know that you won't destroy the letter?" Perotta had to admire the woman's fierce loyalty to her partner.

"You can watch me hand it over to Rackley, Dr. Brennan. Trust me here. I'm the one who suggested that you be called over here this morning. And Booth trusts me to work with you when he can't. I respect and admire him even though I don't know him as well as you do. I'm thinking of him here. Do you really think he needs a painful, private letter shared with the whole team after everything he's been through with this case? Do you want to be the one to air his most private matters with the team? Can you stomach the idea of doing that to him?"

When Brennan paused momentarily, Perotta accepted her brief silence as a "no." "Good," she replied. She watched as Brennan wrestled between her need to know what was in that letter and the need to protect her partner from further pain.

"But why not show the letter to Booth?" Dr. Brennan asked, her voice quavering slightly as she said her partner's name.

"Booth doesn't need to see this until after we've found Patterson."

When Brennan got angry again and stepped closer to her to intimidate her, Perotta stared her down and told her that seeing the note now would only bring Booth pain. "This letter is intensely personal and private, Dr. Brennan. There are things in this letter that simply don't need to be discussed in front of rooms full of agents."

Temperance stood there for a moment understanding exactly how upset Booth would be about having more of his own personal pain and frustration revealed to his colleagues. Knowing that the woman was right but feeling a stronger drive than ever to help her partner, Temperance pled with her again, "But what if there's something relevant that will help us find the killer? I need to see this letter." In her mind, she was not among those people Booth would want any information kept from. But thoughts like that stirred emotions she just couldn't face right now.

Watching the flicker of emotion on the woman's face, Perotta reacted more empathetically, appealing to the woman's trust in her partner, "If Booth decides to show it to you later, he'll be the one making that decision. I'm doing this for him, Dr. Brennan. I need your assurance that you will respect my decision to protect your partner from unnecessary pain."

Looking away for a moment, Brennan glanced back up as if to demand the trust from this woman, "There's no evidence inside…?"

Relieved that she seemed to be making headway, Perotta tried to be honest with the woman before her, "Not of anything relevant to the crime." Perotta's heart went out to this woman. She knew she'd withstand the rumors and the embarrassment of having her own connection to her partner exposed and made public. But she wanted to save her that grief so that she'd be fully able to help her focus on helping solve this case to help her partner.

Not really surprising her, a more soft spoken Brennan shifted gears and tried to reason with her from a different perspective, "I don't understand why _**I**_ can't see it. I know that Agent Patterson loves Booth. I know that they're intimate. I can't imagine anything in that letter that would surprise me. He needs me to find her alive, Agent Perotta. If the letter would help…."

Perotta saw clearly the love the woman before her tried so hard to pretend wasn't there overpowering her. She decided to make that work for her in this situation, "Dr. Brennan, I'd like to think that I have earned a measure of respect from you working cases with you. Do this as a personal favor for me. If there were anything in this letter that made a material difference in the case, I'd be the first one to screw Booth's privacy and post it publicly. There's not."

Temperance sensed that the woman was being honest with her. As always, the truth gave her a strong measure of peace. But then her concern for her partner kicked in again, "Why not give it to Booth now?" Her voice cracked as she voiced the unimaginable, "It… it might be his last communication from her."

Watching the woman banish unbidden tears motivated Perotta to reach out and put her hand upon the woman's arm, "If it's not, she might decide that she doesn't want him to read the letter. If it is, he deserves to read it knowing that it's the last letter he'll have from her."

The fight virtually knocked out of her, Brennan tried once more to find a way to win this argument, "I really don't see how keeping evidence a secret will help anyone."

Noting how anxious the scientist appeared to be and knowing how completely mortified she'd be if she knew what was in that letter, Perotta moved to reassure her, "Once this case is over, I'll explain if you want me to do so. For now, let's just keep this bit of evidence under wraps. Rackley and I will be the only two people to read the letter. If he deems it pertinent to the investigation, I'll hand it over to Booth and the rest of the team."

"If I find out your purposes in this matter are deceitful or hurtful to Booth in any way, I will see to the demise of your career, Agent Perotta," Brennan stated, a determined expression on her face.

8:59 a.m.

"I'd expect nothing less from you, Dr. Brennan. You can trust me. I want to find this killer, too. We're all on Booth's side here. Let's get this letter to Rackley and head on over to the Hoover Building. I'm not sure how long Sweets will be able to keep Booth occupied. I think you need to be there when he gets the news that Patterson's missing, don't you?"

"Certainly," Temperance said in her typically crisp manner, but even she could hear the tinge of dread in her voice. Tamping back her own dread, she followed the female agent across the room.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

9:17 a.m.

As she slipped into her car, Temperance reassured herself that she was doing the right thing. She could compartmentalize. She could handle this happening the way they'd planned—the way she'd demanded for Booth's sake. This was the best course of action, and she'd stick to it because it might make things easier for her partner.

As she followed Agent Perotta's car down the street, Temperance swallowed hard and collected her thoughts for a moment before pressing the button to dial Dr. Sweets' office.

He picked up on the second ring. "Dr. Lance Sweets."

"Have you told him?"

"No. But the matter is becoming more urgent," Sweets tried to reveal the situation to her without allowing Booth know that he was doing so.

"Tell him that we have evidence at the lab that he needs to see immediately."

"Do you?"

"No. But I think that hearing this news in the relative privacy of the lab will make it a bit easier for Booth, don't you?"

"I agree."

"I'm on my way there now. Bring him to my office," she said quickly before the line went dead.

Sweets slipped his phone into his pocket and turned to look at Booth. The man had grown increasingly agitated by his phony attempts to keep him in his office and away from the news about his girlfriend. He was trying to figure out a way to tell Booth that they needed to go over to the lab without making him suspicious about how he'd found out when Booth's cell phone rang. He should have known that Dr. Brennan was at least two steps ahead of him in all matters related to taking care of her partner. She was calling him herself so that Sweets wouldn't slip up and give him any idea what was going on.

"Booth!" he barked enthusiastically, clearly happy to receive a call that might get him away from his 12-year-old shrink. The kid had been all over the place this morning with questions and suggestions. Booth had sensed that he was poking and prodding to try to get him to admit something or to identify a way he might convince the man to talk to him about things he wasn't going to discuss with him now or ever. He'd deflected and ignored him and barked at him and tried a half-dozen other diversionary tactics.

Sure, he had enough issues going on with the women in his life at the moment to keep an army of shrinks busy and well paid, but Booth wasn't crazy. He felt completely sane for the first time in his life. He was going to set things straight so that he could move forward with Bones. And that thought alone had made him endure Sweets' nagging all morning—Bones was worth it. He was finally going to do the right thing.

"I'll be right there. Thanks, Bones," Booth added tenderly as he hung up the phone.

"Sorry, Sweets, but I have to get to the lab. We'll have to postpone the rest of our chat. Duty calls!"

9:24 a.m.

The man's relief and his eagerness to head to the lab where he was going to learn the devastating truth nearly broke Lance Sweets' heart. Swallowing hard and putting on his professional mask to hide his emotions, he asked the man if he could have a ride so that he might find some time to talk to Daisy.

Not seeing through his lie, Booth nodded and strode purposefully out of the office with Sweets unusually quiet beside him.


	22. Chapter 22

_**[A/N: I am so grateful for your reviews and alerts. I am also sorry that the pace of posting here as slowed considerably. Real life just won't allow any faster progress. Thanks for your patience with the unfolding of the story (and with its less-than blissful content)!]**_

Chapter 22: The Agony in the Aftermath

Brennan watched worry invade Booth's expression as he entered her office cheerfully and then quickly realized that he was surrounded by her, Perotta, and Sweets.

"Have a seat on the sofa, Booth. We'll begin our discussion in a minute," Brennan said calmly as she silenced the internal alarm bells that were ringing loudly enough to disturb her. When Sweets turned to close the door to her office, Booth's head snapped in his direction and then jerked back towards her, his steely sniper's calm barely able to overpower his alarm.

"Just tell me. Tell me what this is about," he growled, standing still with his fists clenched and glancing straight at Perotta. She looked away and cleared her throat leaving Temperance with no alternative but to deliver the information.

"Give us a moment, please," she said quietly. Her words were met with silent nods from the FBI personnel who rose quickly and left her alone with her partner.

"Bones, spill. Out with it. Something's going on. What the hell is everyone keeping from me?" Booth asked as he watched his partner walk slowly across the office and sit down on the sofa.

She took a deep breath and felt her pulse adapt. Then she looked up at him where he stood, filled with certainty that these words would alter both their lives. She paused, awed even as she felt compelled to be honest with this man she adored.

"Dammit, Bones!" Booth cursed as he started to pace. Hell, this must be horrible. If Perotta and Sweets couldn't be there…. Oh, God… this had to be personal if they were expecting Bones to tell him.

Realization dawning on him heavily, he turned and rushed over to half-collapse on the sofa near his partner, "Parker… Oh, God…."

"Parker's fine, Booth. He and Rebecca are fine." She heard the air rush into and out of his lungs. "Who? Pops? Jared?"

"They're fine," she tried to reassure him. Temperance Brennan was not a coward. She was nearly invincible and more brave than men twice her size. But the thought of telling Booth this news was daunting. She ached for him to guess so that she wouldn't have to say the words.

Booth knew her well enough to interpret her strained silence as a precursor to something awful. But Bones was here. She was fine. "Cam or Michelle? One of the squints?"

She closed her eyes as if trying to muster the strength to tell him. In that very moment, it hit him. _No... _Guilt rammed him from all directions. _He hadn't even thought of her..._

"No…. Bones, no…," he pled with her to tell him that he was wrong. For once he wanted to be wrong. He didn't want this to be true. The pain in his expression was palpable enough for her to feel her own airways constrict, "The security team realized at 6:15 this morning that… Agent Patterson was missing."

_God..._ He let his head fall into his hands. _This simply cannot be happening. _

"The window to the fire escape was open slightly. There were no signs of forced entry. The team found fresh fingerprints… hers… on the frame."

He sat there shaking his head as if doing so might make it impossible for him to hear this unbearable news. Ever comforted by the truth and facts… even when they appeared to be tearing holes in her partner, she continued directly, trying to answer any questions he might have in advance. "They found her cell phone broken on the sidewalk near ATF headquarters. They're running records for it and for your apartment phone."

Booth leapt up and took a few steps toward the door, "I've gotta go… find her…." His actions bespoke a determination that was not at all evident in his tone. Her words stopped him in his tracks.

"Another agent is missing. A Kendall Norman. He and his child..."

"His child?" Booth spoke, turning to face his partner with even more distress in his expression.

"They disappeared after her soccer practice last evening. His cell phone is not emitting any signals, but they're continuing to check for any signs of them. Apparently, he and Agent Patterson work in proximity at the agency."

After smacking his fist hard on the doorframe, Booth walked across the room and stood staring at a piece of artwork he'd never really noticed before. He assumed that it had some tribal or anthropological significance, but he would have to leave that discussion for another day. He was no art critic, but the maze the image seemed to portray felt appropriate to the way he felt in this situation. He was the small blue blob down on the lower right—the one surrounded by walls and unable to see how to get out of the maze.

He had been so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear his partner walk over and stand behind him. Overpowered by recent events, she didn't dare get close enough to touch him, inhale his scent.

"We'll find her, Booth."

His insides felt as if they were slowly crumbling away. Bones was being at her supportive best, and he thought that gesture alone might be his undoing, "You… you don't know that Bones. He..."

"We have no evidence that The Taker has her."

"Bones, it has to be…," he half-whispered, unable to turn around and face the sympathy he knew he'd read in her expression.

"There was no vise, no sign of injury…."

"Don't jump to conclusions without all the evidence, right?" he choked out in deference to her need to cling to facts and evidence and in desperate hope that her words might conceivably be true.

"Yes."

"Bones…," he whispered, turning around slowly. He longed to reach out to her for that partner-hug he'd promised long ago he'd need one day. But the guilt of knowing that his arms had been cradling her while the murderer kidnapped Fallon was simply too great. This was a damned impossible situation. He had no idea what Bones was thinking, and he wasn't really sure how to reassure her.

"Bones, I….," he began, but his partner cut him off before he could begin.

"We need to focus, Booth. We need to find her. I'll help you find her." He was grateful that she seemed to understand his hesitation.

"God, Bones, can we just not be you and me for five minutes?"

"What? That's physically impossible, Booth."

"Metaphorically. Just listen as my friend. Don't read into what I say. Don't think about what we… what I said last night… Compartmentalize, just for five minutes?"

"Okay," she said with as much conviction as she could show him. He believed her and started talking.

"I can't talk to Sweets about this. But, God, Bones…, I feel so guilty. I mean… last night… This is all my fault."

"This is not your fault."

"We fought. I left. And I went straight to you… to your apartment..."

The only sign of the fact that she'd been moved by his words was a hard swallow and the fact that she stood just a bit taller when she responded, "Booth, you don't need to explain. Although it is entirely irrational, I, too, find that I feel a measure of guilt about her disappearance."

He nodded and stared at the tops of his shoes before the pain in her expression killed him. God, he loved her. Even as he focused on that reality, he realized that thinking those thoughts deepened his betrayal of his girlfriend.

"We didn't do anything wrong, Booth. You… you are an honorable man."

"Am I? Wouldn't an honorable man have just ended it with her, helped her pack, and taken her to the airport before professing his… my feelings to another woman? And even way the hell before that… If I hadn't been so determined to move on… Or if I had just listened when you told me how you felt... I never had my heart in it… in that relationship. She could have been home safe in Philly."

"Booth, don't do this to yourself."

He moved away and paced for a long moment and then turned on a dime and strode directly up in front of her, the expression on his face sending chills up her spine, "I've been an ass, and Fallon didn't deserve it. I have to find her and tell her that. But I meant it when I chose you, Bones. I don't regret it. I was afraid he'd get to you, and that made me crazy. I'd do the same thing again. But I have to find her…. to stop him. None of this is on you… You don't get to feel guilty. You've done nothing wrong."

Those warm brown eyes were dark and earnest in a way that she saw only when he was most sincere and protective. She loved him. Images like this of him kept her warm on dark, lonely nights. Tears filled her eyes and she stared up at him, realizing how untenable this situation had become so quickly.

He thought he'd die on the spot if Bones started crying on him. He simply couldn't take that—not now. Shifting into work mode to comfort and ground both of them, he spoke authoritatively, "You and the squints have to triple check all the kerf marks and the blood types and the particulates and the rest of the bones to find something else we can work with. I have to get over to Hoover and help Rackley track this jerk down."

"They're already pursuing all available leads, Booth. You're here so that Agent Perotta can ask you questions about Agent Patterson in relative privacy."

He sighed, realizing that he should have expected as much. He was grateful that Bones had arranged to make the whole "question the boyfriend and rule him out as a suspect" thing less difficult. He knew he had an air-tight alibi, but he also knew that explaining his shift in apartments and female company for the evening would not be fun. "And Sweets?"

"It was decided by your superiors that, if I were not the one to inform you about her disappearance, that he would be the next best choice."

He nodded, comforted by her logic as she was by his relatively easy acceptance of that news.

"If he's taken her… and if we don't find her in time…. I don't even want to begin to think about that. I mean, God… we have to find her. But you need to know now that, on top of how horrible that would be, they'll pull me off duty, Bones."

"Why?"

"Standard procedure. I've only been allowed to stay on and work the case because nobody close to me has been injured… or worse…."

His silence spoke volumes. His worry for Fallon was apparent, but the thought that he'd also be relegated to administrative leave and no longer have access to the case would be enough to dismantle him. He needed to catch this killer now more than ever. Being cut out of the investigation would be unbearable for him.

Daring to move closer, she placed a hand supportively upon his arm, "We'll find her, Booth."

He stared at her for a long moment, both of them considering and longing for but deciding against a hug or any other sign of affection. She turned away first to spare him the difficulty of doing so.

"I'll get Agent Perotta," she said, moving quickly to vacate her office.

"Bones?" he said quietly, watching as she turned a barely composed face back in his direction.

"Thanks," he said, his unspoken gratitude as evident as his professed words of appreciation. She nodded and disappeared without another word.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth was surprised when Perotta returned to the office with only Sweets in tow. Booth summarily dismissed the man. Realizing that his presence was not required and knowing that he did not want to watch the man speculate if he heard what Booth was going to say, the man demanded that he go back to help amend his profiling of The Taker. There was no way in hell he could have him poking around in his muddled brain right now.

Seeming to sense his uncertainty about his partner's failure to return to the office, Perotta reassured Booth. "She's probably going over the evidence and giving you some privacy. She's on your side, Booth. She nearly clocked me today trying to prove it."

Simultaneously reassured by and wounded by those words and the depth of commitment from his partner they signified, Booth nodded and began responding to his colleague's questions.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth told himself that it wasn't the guilt that made him leave the lab later without saying goodbye to Bones. He was just in a hurry to talk to Rackley and find a lead—any lead—he could work to help find Fallon before it was too late. His gut balked at his own deception, but he was too busy to pay attention to it.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Upon his return to the office, Booth had been called into Hacker's office for a meeting with Rackley. It had been all he could do to sit still in that uncomfortable chair as he listened to Rackley fill him in on what they were doing to track Fallon down. Tamping down his frustration, he sat there, nodding where appropriate and trying to think three steps ahead so that he could find the gaps and the holes in their plans. Surprisingly, Rackley seemed to have all the bases covered.

"Booth, we were thinking that it makes the most sense for you to call Agent Patterson's family," Hacker intoned to interrupt the agent in charge.

_Crap. Lydia_. He had to call her. He'd halfway hoped that she'd already been contacted. She hated him—always had. He knew that she'd blame him for this. For once, he knew that they'd be on the same page.

"Full disclosure?" he asked Rackley.

"Unless you suspect her family's involvement," Brian replied instantly.

"No. I'll call her sister from my office," Booth said, rising and not waiting to be excused from the meeting.

As the door closed behind the man, Rackley turned to his superior, "We're recording all his calls just in case The Taker decides to opt for a ransom call or some other kind of contact. With your permission, sir, I'd like to restrict access to those recordings and to other more personal evidence to just Agent Perotta and myself."

"High regard for Agent Booth, Rackley?" Hacker asked the man.

"Higher every day, sir," Rackley replied with a nod before making his way out of the office to listen in on Booth's call to his girlfriend's sister.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Dr. Brennan, have you found anything new today? You've been examining those bones for hours."

Without ceasing her examination, a weary Temperance shook her head and put the tibia back in place on the examining table. Picking up the patella, she moved it from hand to hand carefully as she rotated it and examined it from a variety of angles. Finding nothing, she placed it on a tray so that she could review it under the spectrometer for a more detailed examination.

Assuming that the woman was immersed in her work, Dr. Saroyan turned to leave.

"Dr. Saroyan?" Brennan asked quietly. The woman turned to face the anthropologist and was surprised when she used her first name, "Cam…."

"Yes?" she responded quickly.

"I need to ask you to do a favor for me," Brennan asked, the emotion in her voice carefully controlled and nearly hidden.

Cam nodded for her to continue.

"I realize that it is a great deal to ask and that you have personal and family commitments…," Brennan began. She looked down and swallowed, determined to keep her emotions under control.

"But I would consider it a great personal favor if you would spend this evening at Booth's apartment with him."

Cam tilted her head and frowned, surprised by this request.

"Given the disappearance of Agent Fallon and the likely limitations on his involvement in the case by the bureau, I fear that Booth will be extremely agitated and upset. Under those circumstances, I feel that he should be accompanied by a very close friend, by someone who knows him well and who will not judge him for showing emotion or being disagreeable. He needs to be able to vent his frustrations within the safety of a close friendship. In short, I do not believe that he needs to be alone in that apartment this evening."

Her heart aching for the woman before her, Cam took a few steps closer, "Dr. Brennan, the person you just described, the person who knows Booth best and who is best equipped to deal with his emotions and his anger and frustration—you're that person. You're Booth's person."

Swallowing hard to keep her composure, Temperance tried to find the appropriate words without explaining why she couldn't be there, "Ordinarily, I would agree with you, but, in this circumstance…," she trailed off momentarily. "In this circumstance, I am not the appropriate friend to stay with him."

It was there in her eyes, on her face, in her posture. Cam ached for this woman and for all of her misguided attempts to secure her heart from capture by the man about whom they were speaking. She really loves him, Cam realized as she watched Brennan fake calm and composure and an air of distance from the situation.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan. I'll be happy to help," she said quietly. "Would 10 p.m. be too late for me to arrive? I need to make arrangements for someone to watch over Michelle for me."

"That would be excellent," Temperance responded, unable to stop herself from releasing the breath she'd been holding. "Thank you, Cam."

"He's one of ours, Dr. Brennan. He's part of our family," Cam replied with a nod before turning and leaving the platform.

Taking several deep breaths to calm herself, Temperance returned to her work. Knowing that Booth would have company tonight—someone other than her—was enough to help her compartmentalize and return to her scrutiny of the evidence.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

In a pitch dark room within a virtually invisible building outside a remote town not too far from Richmond, Virginia, three people were huddled together and whispering. They'd been left alone for hours in the darkness, their arms bound tightly behind their backs and their feet bound to keep them from moving. Prioritizing carefully and grateful for the fact that they had not been gagged, they'd slowly worked to help free each other's feet from the ropes that had bound them. They were planning to start working on loosening the ties binding their hands next so that they'd be as prepared as possible to make their escape.

"Let's come up with another plan. I… I don't like our options with the first one," one of the adults whispered to the other as they both huddled on the floor next to the child.

"It's the only way. You get her to safety. Call for backup."

"But I can't leave you here alone."

"I'll be fine. You'll get help. I'll take him out when he walks in. If I hit him hard enough, I'll have time to hide or maybe even to follow you out."

"But what if something goes wrong? Let me stay and you take her."

"No. We've made the plan. Now let's start working on these other ropes," the other agent finished without leaving room for further discussion.

Ten minutes later, they'd managed to free the hands of the child. Still quivering, she'd wrapped her arms around her father's neck and held on tightly. Fallon squirmed and slipped until she was back to back with Kendall. Then she started working feverishly to free his hands from the very tight ropes that were holding them firmly behind his back.

Fallon tried to ignore the deep scratches in her fingers from all the grappling with the rough material. She'd have time to heal later. They had to escape. Her head was still pounding from the drugs that had been injected into her as she sat down in the passenger seat of Norman's car. She couldn't say for sure what she'd been given, but her head had been banging ever since she'd woken up in this darkened room. She'd realized just as she'd slipped into unconsciousness that she'd been set up and that The Taker now held all three of them hostage. Her arm throbbed from where he'd reached up and pressed the needle into her arm from the invisibility of his tarp-covered hiding place in the back seat of the van.

She hadn't had to ask Norman what he'd done. He'd obviously done what the kidnapper required of him in order to save his own child. She hadn't had to see him to know that the man felt horrible for luring her away from her apartment with the promise of evidence certain to bring The Taker down. She hadn't heard him curse his kidnapper once she'd passed out—promising the man that he'd pay if he hurt any of them. She hadn't witnessed the man's fear as they pulled off the interstate and onto a remote highway where they wouldn't pass much traffic and hostage taker had pulled the small, frightened girl from the floor of the back seat and held her up so that her father could see her in the rearview mirror, his knife making indentations in the flesh of her tiny neck as she sat horrified and staring into her father's teary eyes.

Fallon didn't have to wonder about the lengths to which the man would have gone to protect his child. Her own father hadn't been in law enforcement, but he'd been the world to her. When he'd died unexpectedly just before she'd graduated from high school, she'd been crushed. He'd been her rock, her foundation, her most staunch ally, the reason she worked so hard to be the best at everything she ever tried. Losing him had nearly crippled her. Losing him had made her realize how vulnerable love could make someone. The first man to love her completely as she was had been ripped away from her without warning. She'd never gotten the chance to say goodbye. She had long since realized that her distrust of Seeley had its origins in that cold, dark night when her mother had collapsed in her grief hugging her daughters as she'd told them the devastating news.

Hearing the child sniffle pulled Fallon out of her memories. "Don't worry, sweetie. Your dad is very brave. He and I are going to get you out of here as fast as we can. We're going to get you home safe in no time."

"She's right, honey. Everything will be okay," Kendall whispered to his daughter. He reached back for just a moment and held onto Fallon's hand. "Thank you," he whispered, and she could hear the tears in his voice.

"We're quite a bunch of crybabies, aren't we?" she tried to joke. "Let's stop sniffling and get ready to blow this joint."

Suddenly, they heard noise unexpectedly ringing in from down the hallway outside the room. Wordlessly, she squeezed Kendall's hand and they both moved to stand up against the wall near the doorframe. They hadn't had time to untie their hands, but they'd just have to go ahead with plan B.

The plan was simple. They would use the element of surprise to their advantage since they had no other way of gaining any. One of the adults would rush their captor and knock him off his feet while the other slipped out with the child and rushed to call for help.

When the door opened and their kidnapper slowly made his way into the completely dark room, the agents snapped into action. As planned, the first ran headlong into the man, sending him sprawling and crashing hard into the wall on the other side of the doorway. The other paused only a moment before pulling the child out into the hallway toward safety.

Trying not to listen to the physical battle still going on inside the room they'd vacated, the agent and the child slipped down the hallway quietly and passed through the exterior door. Only as the bolt on the lock clicked carefully back into place-locking them out of the facility-did they realize what they'd done.

They were in the middle of a cornfield with no sign of anything other than produce for miles around. Cursing internally but determined to find a way to get help, the agent pulled the child along in hopes of finding some sign of civilization.

Unfortunately, the sky was growing dark and the path they'd taken was a long one. Working at the ropes holding his hands as he walked, Kendall prayed that he'd done the right thing by leaving. His gut was telling him that he'd be wondering that for a very long time.

Back in the concrete storage building that had been converted into the perfect venue for torturing and killing his victims, The Taker slammed Fallon's head onto a table and then heard rather than saw her fall to the floor. Cursing her defiance and the unfortunate escape of the other two, he left, carefully locking the door behind him before heading out to find the escapees.


	23. Chapter 23

_**[A/N: I'm telling you in advance that this chapter is all over the place time-wise. The snippets for the various characters do not flow chronologically. Each character's pieces follow chronological order, but the different pieces are put together somewhat haphazardly across the different storylines. If you get lost in the timeline, let me know. Hope it isn't too confusing.]**_

Chapter 23: The Call with the Answer

When she woke up, Fallon's first realization was that she was badly injured. She was face down on the floor; her cheek was stuck to the floor in a small pool of her own blood. Wincing, she experimented with body parts, slowly moving them to try to assess the state of her injuries. Her shoulder was sore from the way that she'd rammed into The Taker when he'd entered the room. Her knee ached from the way she'd slammed it into the floor when she tackled the man. Her shoulders burned from the way her arms were still tied behind her back. Her face throbbed without ceasing and her eye felt swollen. Slowly but surely she realized that she was pretty well battered but she was mostly intact.

As she drew her knees up under her body and tried to sit up upon them, she thought back about her struggles with the man who was holding her hostage. When he'd grabbed her head from behind, she'd clutched at him with her tied hands. She'd scratched and clawed. Maybe there was DNA under her nails or something. Clutching at the tail of her blouse, she rubbed it under her nails hoping to leave some miniscule trace of the man on the material. Convinced that she'd wiped away whatever might be there, she ripped at the fabric until part of it gave way. Then she continued to pull until she heard the rip that indicated that it had been removed from the blouse.

She moved toward the door and used her shoulder to turn on the lights. Squinting in the sudden brightness, she looked around frantically, searching for a place she might hide the fabric. After reminding herself of the places an evidence team might search, she stood slowly and put the piece of fabric on a low shelf where it was visible to someone searching but not to a casual observer. A bit faint from the loss of blood and her injuries, she moved back across the room and sat down heavily to being trying to work on the ropes that still held firm.

She was dozing by the time the door opened and the man yanked her upright. Before she could speak to him or take a closer look, he shoved her out into the hallway and forced her head down and her body into a small compartment in the side of a metal cart. Kicking hard so as not to be confined, she managed to smash his arm into the side of the cart. She'd hit him hard enough to draw blood, and she hoped he'd be leaving some of it behind as evidence in case Kendall sent the bureau in after her. However, her small satisfaction in wounding the man was short-lived as he injected her with another powerful mix of chemicals and she passed out almost instantly.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

When she awakened, Patterson remembered where she was. The cart into which she'd been pressed was the same type the bureau sometimes used to sneak people into venues for hostage rescue. The box itself was small, but with careful planning, three to four people could cram themselves inside for transport. She kicked at the sides of the box a few times before convincing herself that the container had been lined to make it soundproof. The tank on the end of the container—the one that looked like a propane tank for a gas grill—was an oxygen container to pump air into the small space. This guy knew what he was doing. As she heard the faint whoosh of air into the space, she was at least grateful that he'd turned on the airflow. She knew this man wanted her dead, but she was encouraged that he hadn't killed her right away. She just hoped she could figure a way out of there before he pulled it off.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Outside Richmond, two helicopters landed on a grassy knoll on a farm around 10:30 p.m. As the blades spun to a stop, teams of agents disembarked and regrouped under some trees waiting for orders. Rackley and Perotta ran inside the well-maintained old farmhouse to question Agent Norman about the place from which they escaped. As they spoke with him, a third copter landed. Dr. Sweets slipped out of the vehicle and walked over to the front porch to wait.

Securing enough information from Norman to be prepared to act, the agents left the house and provided instructions to the extraction team. They paused briefly as Norman hugged his daughter tightly and promised her that he'd be home soon—that he had to help rescue the agent who'd helped save their lives. Dr. Sweets led the crying child to the smaller helicopter and rubbed her shoulder encouragingly as she cried as she watched out the window as they left her father behind. He reassured her that they were headed back to DC to meet up with her mother and her younger brother. He also reassured her that her father would be safe and that he'd be home with them soon.

After watching the helicopter take his daughter out of sight toward safety, Norman turned to put on a vest and to accept the night vision goggles and weapons that were offered to him. He listened as the agents described the plans for freeing Patterson from the building he'd escaped earlier. He just hoped they'd get there in time.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

She was still disoriented when the sliding door on the side of the cart flew open what had to be hours later and gloved hands reached inside to pull her out into a new sparsely furnished room. The effects of the drugs were long-lasting, so Fallon was too groggy and slow-moving to be able to free herself from the man's tight grasp. He re-tied the knots on the ropes binding her wrists and gagged her tightly. She felt intense pain as the man shoved her roughly onto a small, hard cot in one corner of the room. The back of her head hit the wall with a harsh thump, and her left shoulder ached from the impact of her body weight falling upon it. She took a moment to compose herself and then listened in horror as her captor set up the equipment he needed to finish his morbid work.

She watched as he held up a vise and admired his handiwork. She blinked back tears knowing that her time was drawing too short. Although she fought to stay awake, the drug-induced slumber took her under again.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After the short helicopter ride to another nearby farm and a silent jeep ride from that farm to the next, the extraction team slipped silently into the cornfield and moved to surround the building. Working quickly and with expertise, the team pulled into position and awaited the signal to move forward. Norman wiped the sweat from his brow. He was praying that they'd made it back in time. Leaving any other agent—especially a female—behind hadn't sat well with him. He needed for Patterson to be there and for them to be in time for the rescue.

He felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck as he heard the order to move forward crackle over his earpiece and as he watched the team lead detonate a charge to blow the lock on the closest exterior door.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Trying to be brave, Fallon closed her eyes, said her prayers, and clutched desperately at the last tatters of her bravery. She prayed for Seeley. She knew that he'd be torn up if they didn't get to her in time. She prayed that her sister would remember how much she loved him, but she feared that her anger would drive her to respond bitterly to him and to blame him for whatever happened to her. She prayed for Norman and his kid and for their safety. Holding onto hope that they were safe helped calm her frayed nerves. Her self-sacrifice would be understood and respected. She'd be revered and remembered even if she didn't get the happily-ever-after she'd been hoping for. She thought about that torn piece of fabric and hoped that even now someone might be finding it and rushing it to the lab for testing.

Lost in her frenzied thoughts in the dark behind closed eyes, she hadn't heard her kidnapper approach and lean over to yank her upright off the cot. She gasped and stiffened, but she wasn't in much of a condition to resist him since he'd taken her by surprise.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

As the agents fanned out and explored the abandoned building, it quickly became obvious that The Taker had moved Patterson to another location. Working on adrenaline and the need to locate their comrade, the team swept every corner of the building for evidence. Hearing the self-hatred in his own voice, Norman explained which room they'd been held in and provided additional details about where they'd crouched and what they'd done. As he spoke, he felt the burn where the ropes that had confined him had been. He also felt the bruising where he knew Patterson had rammed her shoulder into their kidnapper. As he explained the scuffling he'd heard as they escaped, he felt her other bruises. His heart sank. He was growing panicked that they might not find her in time.

As they grilled him about noises he'd heard and cars he'd seen pass as he and his daughter had crept through the cornfield, he grew more and more desperate for facts he had no way to remember. He was a dead end. He couldn't help them find her. He'd all but given up hope when he heard an agent rush over to hold up a scrap of fabric in front of them.

"That's a piece of her shirt. Patterson was wearing that shirt," he confessed, praying that this small piece of evidence might make a difference.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Fumbling on unsteady legs as the man shoved her ahead forcefully, Fallon calculated her options. She decided to play along for now to get her bearings, to allow the drugs to wear off, and to give her one last best chance to escape. She flinched when the man sat her down in a rolling desk chair and rammed it forward until her ribs crashed into the desk.

Reeling from these new injuries, she looked up, stunned by the sophisticated display of monitors before her. He'd had them all under surveillance. There were hazy, dawn-dappled views of Seeley's apartment building, of the Hoover, of the Jeffersonian lab entrance. But what surprised her was the image she recognized on the screen on the bottom right. She watched in horror as the man clicked keys and brought up footage of her walking with Seeley into the cathedral. Puzzled by the man's recording of those images, she watched as he showed her view after view of the victims of his crimes—all of them shown walking into or out of the cathedral near the time when Seeley had been going in or out.

Had her situation not been so desperate, she might have been elated to see a link between the murdered parties. But she was too afraid that she was about to become his next victim to feel any excitement. She'd die before she could pass on the clue. They'd never find her in time. She had no way of letting them know.

She was reeling from this news when she felt the man grab her roughly and pull her up out of the chair. He'd seen her notice the key piece of information he'd taken the time to show her. His patience drawing to an end abruptly, he shoved her forward into the wall, and her head hit the edge of the window behind the dark curtains. Ignoring the pain and the warp speed of her racing heart, Fallon cringed as the man pressed himself up behind her and then pulled her back against him. She hated the way she could smell him and feel his body touching hers as if they were intimate. She nearly vomited from the vulgarity of being so close to this cold, hard killer.

Her terror increased as she watched him peel back the curtain to show her where they were. They were on the 6th or 7th floor of a building directly across the street from the cathedral. Her heart sank as she realized she was back in DC while the agency was certainly scouring the remote territory hours from the city. She was pained by the knowledge that they'd all been walking around this man for weeks without even realizing it.

Convinced that she'd seen enough, her kidnapper yanked her backward and threw her to the floor. She watched as he crossed the room and picked something up from the table. Bracing herself, she prepared to fight him—realizing that this would likely be her last chance.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

In a conference room at the Hoover Building, a deflated special agent was informed that he had to relinquish his badge, his gun. Wordlessly, he nodded as he was informed that he had been placed on administrative leave and that he would be forced to vacate his office and the building within a few hours. He halfway listened as Hacker explained to him that he would still have protection. He grimaced when his superior requested his Jeffersonian access card. He was told in no uncertain terms that his partnership with Dr. Brennan was severed until the end of this investigation and that he was under strict orders not to seek information about the evidence from any of the squints—that they'd be fired for talking to him about the case.

Booth knew that all of this was standard procedure. Still, he couldn't help hating Hacker a bit more for the way that the man was enjoying limiting his involvement in the case and with his partner. Rackley would have softballed his delivery—any self-respecting agent would have. Hacker had been offline so long that he'd forgotten about code among agents—the unspoken sympathy they automatically felt and conveyed wordlessly that left a man with his dignity intact even if his authority had been revoked.

When he realized that Hacker had stopped rambling and was waiting for some kind of response from him, Booth stood, pulled out his department-issued weapon, unloaded it expertly, and placed the weapon and his ammunition on the table. He slipped his badge and credentials out and flopped them on the table. He offered his phone but was informed that he could keep it. Looking everywhere but at Hacker, Booth pulled his Jeffersonian keycard out of his jacket pocket and dropped it onto the table. Without being asked, he reached into his pocket and fished out his keys, slipping the ring with the keys to his SUV off the keychain and dropping it with a loud clatter on the tabletop.

"Find him," he said without waiting for a response from the man staring at him. Without another word, Booth turned and left the room, uncertain of any place he might go or anything he might do now that he had nothing to do but to wait.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After searching frantically all night but still failing to uncover any new evidence in the remains of any of The Taker's victims, Temperance took a break. She spent time checking her e-mail, reviewing reports from her interns, and nagging Cam about rushing the results of the DNA samples retrieved from the crime scene near Richmond.

Hesitant but determined, she'd called Booth's cell phone a few times only to reach his voicemail. Part of her expected him to pick up if only to demand more evidence. But she'd long since seen the message indicating that Booth was offline and that she was not to work with him again until the case was over. She realized that he was protecting himself by refusing her calls. He'd only be tempted to ask her questions she was not allowed to answer. She wanted to find him and promise him that no arbitrary rules would ever prevent her from sharing important information with him, but she realized that doing so might only get her kicked off the case. With Booth now removed from it, it was more important than ever for her to remain close to the evidence and ever vigilant in her search for the truth.

As she strode out of her office and back to the forensics platform, she tried to convince herself that she was missing her partnership with Booth more than anything else. For years, she'd have been the one making that argument and believing it most. Yet now she found herself undeniably more focused on wishing she could find the man and hold him more than she wanted to find her partner and support him. Realizing that neither action would further their progress, she slipped on new gloves and determined a new angle for examining the remains. This killer was meticulous and disciplined, but he was human. Given that variable, it was only logical to assume that he'd make a mistake and that she'd be the one to discover it.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Shackled with most of her clothing torn or cut away, Fallon lay on the table and stared at the man determined to end her life. She'd been unconscious when he'd picked her up and put her on the table. She'd fought hard, drawn more blood, and nearly gotten free from him, but the man had used his slightly larger frame and less damaged muscles to overpower her and inject her with another round of medication that knocked her out temporarily. This time, unlike the other times he'd drugged her, he'd administered something that served to immobilize her without reducing her mental capacity. Now that she was awake, her limbs felt heavy—too heavy to move, but her mind was clear and focused. She supposed that this was the worst form of torture. She'd know exactly what he was doing. She'd feel the pain as he killed her and be powerless to stop it.

After busying himself with his tools for a moment, the man turned and looked down at her almost sympathetically. Surprising her, he removed the gag that had bound her. She watched as he tossed the fabric onto a flame and it disintegrated into ashes. Even as he was torturing her, this man was keenly aware of removing all traces of the evidence. She only hoped he'd missed that scrap of fabric she'd left behind at the other location.

"You don't have to do this," she whispered, hoping that she might induce this man to take pity on her.

"Really? You expect me to leave you alive to report on me now that you've had time to see me, memorize my features?"

"You've been leaving notes and taunting Agent Booth. You want to be caught. Give up now and I'll ask them to have mercy on you. They'll listen to me. You'll get jailtime, but I'll argue against the death penalty."

"If I were that stupid, I'd have let them catch me by now," he snarled at her.

"You're not stupid. You're very smart. And I know that you're going to kill me. Tell me why you're doing this. Don't I deserve to know why I'm going to die?"

"Very persuasive, Agent Patterson. Wish I were recording this so that your bosses would see you being persuasive and professional even to the end. Shame I won't be able to show your boyfriend how brave you were. It's his fault you have to die. He should have to watch you beg me to spare you."

"Why the cathedral? I get the other locations you're monitoring, but why the church?"

"Stop giving me reasons to go find my videocamera, Fallon," he seethed, "You don't mind my using your first name, do you? Seems appropriately intimate given the fact that I'll be carving out your organs within the hour."

She swallowed hard and continued to prod him knowing instinctively that begging for mercy would hasten rather than postpone her death, "I don't care what you call me as long as you tell me why you are watching the church across the street."

"I'll explain what I feel like explaining. But you don't get to know why. You can know what you have in common with all of the others, but you can't know why. The only person who can know why is the other woman… the scientist. I'll tell her why when I cut open her chest and rip her heart out. She'll get to carry that secret to her grave."

"You'll never get to her," Fallon hissed, unable to stop her hatred from seeping into her tone.

"Only time will tell, sugar. You see… for the longest time, I wasn't sure I'd get you. I waited so patiently. I've waited for three years."

"Three years? I haven't even been here for a year…."

"Oh, I started watching way before you showed up. Your boyfriend's quite the creature of habit. He is a man of routine. He's sometimes late, but he always makes it to confession. It's been quite a wonderful game really. I've watched every week as he made his way up those steps and into the church. The times he just went to pray didn't matter. He even took her-his partner-there a few times just to pray. The cameras I have inside the cathedral show me what he does when he goes inside. Anyway, I never cared about the times he went to pray because I know first-hand that God doesn't answer prayers. It was the other times…. The times he went in for confession. Those were the times when I paid close attention."

"You've been watching Seeley go to confession for years?" she asked nonplussed.

"I've watched him do so many things over the years. But that man does not deserve to be forgiven for his sins. So I waited. And if it was time… if I was looking for a new victim and he went inside to confession, then he chose the next victim for me. Whoever entered the confessional after him was the next person chosen. He usually left quickly, so he wasn't around to interfere. I'd make my way out of the building and across the street. I'd wait for that person to leave the church. It didn't matter why they went in. That one man was a Muslim. He didn't even go in to pray. He left the door to the confessional open and just looked inside. But he was the lucky one your boyfriend picked to die because he dared to enter the contaminated confessional next. Some of them I caught right away. Others I had to wait for. But most of those regulars came back often enough. I never had to wait too long. I waited longer for you than for most. The days you went first didn't qualify you for selection. But that one day, the gentleman didn't wait for the lady. You went in after him, and I knew I'd get to you. I just had to wait for an opportunity."

"Why? How did you catch them? There have to be cameras outside on the street…. At the church…."

"Religious people are sentimental fools. It was easy to beg them to help me with my child who had fallen in the alleyway or to coax them around the corner to help me rescue my cat from a grate. The reasons were different, but their kind, Christian response was always the same."

"But that little girl…."

"Her parents rounded the corner too quickly. It was easy to lure her over here with the promise if reuniting her with them."

"You son of a…."

He slapped her before she could finish that sentence.

"I won't tolerate you talking about my parents disrespectfully."

"Well, they raised a monster, they don't deserve respect."

"It's a testament to the way they raised me that I've told you this much of my story."

"They'll catch you, you know. They'll find you… they won't stop looking."

"Your boyfriend has already been kicked off the case. The others will lose interest. I have no plans to kill anyone else… not until she crosses the line… and she will, you know."

"Now it makes sense that you were just trying to frighten his friends, the people at the lab…. You never intended to harm them—only to worry him. But if those are your rules… if the person has to go to confession… you're screwed. Dr. Brennan is an atheist. She'll never go to confession. She might go in with him while he prays, but she won't ever confess—she doesn't believe in it."

"It's a good thing you won't be around to see how wrong you are about her. She'll do that… she'll do almost anything… she'll do many things for the man you both love. I may make an exception, though. It may just be enough for her to enter that church again without her partner taking her there. For her to seek God's counsel and his wisdom on her own… that would make her loyal enough to him to die for it."

"Why kill her? Why not just kill Seeley for whatever he did to make you hate him so much?"

"He took everything from me. He has to lose everything before he dies. I want to see him broken, crying. Do you think that losing you will be enough? Hell, it might just be a waste of my time. He wasn't even there with you last night. He was over there with her. You're a nice warm up, and losing you will hurt him to some extent, but she's the one it'll kill him to lose."

"He's a good man. You must not understand what happened," she began, but he flicked out a blade and ran it up the front of her blouse, sending buttons ricocheting all over the room as the fabric slipped away.

He glared at her as if considering where to sink the blade first, "You have no idea what that man is capable of. He's selfish and uncaring. He ignores the needs of others. You're evidence of that, you know. If he'd done right by you, the two of you might be screwing like rabbits right now. But he abandoned you, and now you're going to die."

Trying to hide her pain, Fallon maintained eye contact with the man. She couldn't understand his hatred of her boyfriend, but she was determined to keep him talking and buy more time for them to get to her. Maybe she could stall him.

"He didn't really abandon me, but how did Seeley abandon you? Does he even know you? He didn't remember anything about you. None of your notes clued him in. Maybe you've got the wrong guy."

"Oh, he'll remember me all right. Once I send him his partner's heart in a vise, he'll know exactly who he's dealing with."

"But then he'll be able to catch you…."

"Yes, but by then I'll be ready to be caught… I… It will be over then. I'll be free. I'll be ready to die. I'll be ready to look him in the face and tell him how you cried. I'll be able to tell him what it felt like hearing your last breath… and his partner's. That's all I want. I want to watch him realize that all of this was his fault."

"I get that you want revenge, but you… you must be Catholic, too. Don't you worry about the afterlife? Aren't you afraid of going to hell for what you've done?"

"I have lived most of my life in hell. Nothing else can be worse than what happened to me."

"But God can forgive you. You can find peace."

His right fist hit her chin and smashed her head upward. She turned to look back at him and saw only hatred in his dark, angry eyes.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

After calling Parker and Pops and Jared and pretending that nothing was wrong, Booth had put himself through a rigorous in-apartment workout. He'd showered, flipped around aimlessly finding nothing on the television to distract him, and failed to sleep when attempting a nap. He needed a hobby, he supposed. He was not fit for inactivity, and he found himself suddenly without any purpose. He hated being bored. He hated it even more when he had to sit around and wait for someone else to die.

He dialed Fallon's number even though he knew her phone had been destroyed. He almost dialed his partner about 28 times but stopped each time short of hitting the button to make the call.

Wanting a drink or a good game of poker with a tall stack of chips to burn but telling himself that he should not indulge in either, he slumped into his recliner and hit the lever to recline it. He knew he wouldn't sleep, but he hoped he could at least relax long enough to stop his brain from racing.

Unbidden, his mind crept back over the past few days. Calling Lydia had been a low point. She'd all but accused him of killing her sister. He hadn't been able to argue. At the end of that crappy day, he'd been relieved when Bones had shown up with Thai food and forced him to eat some of it. But then he'd been putting the leftovers in the fridge when he'd turned around and found Camille standing in his kitchen. Bones had left someone else to babysit him. He loved her for sparing him the awkwardness of spending an evening with her without being able to even consider anything other than his miserable state of worry over his lover, but part of him resented her fiercely logical stance and her unwillingness to tell him goodbye. He'd stalked her team all night making sure that she was fine. Ultimately, she'd texted him at 2 a.m. to tell him to stop calling the men in the hallway. She'd insisted that she needed some sleep. He'd resented her for even considering being able to get any.

Despite his frustration with Bones, he had quickly realized that Camille had been the perfect person to send over. She slept on the sofa while he sat in the recliner. Ever a light sleeper, she rose and slipped into bed with him when he moved to the bedroom to leave her in peace. There had been nothing untoward in the way that she'd lain there close to him. There had only been the comfort of the familiar, the closeness of a friend, and the reassurance that some things were constant and abiding. He'd needed all the reassurance like that he could cling to.

The next morning had been worse. He'd been furious when he'd learned that they'd gone out on a mission that night without telling him. He'd gone in and yelled at Rackley and at Hacker and at everyone he ran into. He accused them of incompetence and then called the lab to yell at everyone except Bones for not knowing the DNA results when he knew that it would take days for proper testing to be completed.

He'd sat and listened as he was removed from duty and dealt with Hacker's general assholiness. But the low point of his day had been when he'd walked past the interrogation room and seen Norman sitting down to be grilled about what had happened.

While they'd all been at the ready and stood there poised to stop him, none of the other agents had said a word when he'd entered the room, rounded the table, and picked the man up and pressed him against the wall. He'd lit into him quickly, calling him a coward, insisting that he was not a real agent, demanding that he tell them something that would help them find Fallon. As he'd pressed his forearm into the man's Adam's apple, the man had crumpled and cried, for God's sake. Booth hadn't expected that reaction, and he'd released his tight hold on the man when he realized that he was breaking down. Flabbergasted and now embarrassed that he'd blown a fuse in front of everyone there, Booth turned to leave. Fearing the man was leaving in disgust, Norman called out to him and stopped him in his tracks. Booth had turned to face him and seen the pain ripping the man apart at the seams.

"He had my kid. I had to save my kid. Patterson was damned brave. Said something about not leaving another kid to lose a father. I swear I'd have done something else, but there was no other way. She saved my kid's life out there. I owe her mine, and I'll do everything I can to help find her. Are you a father? Would you be able to let someone kill your kid? There was nothing else I could do. I swear it."

Clenching his fists and his jaw hard to avoid bawling like a baby, Booth turned to leave the room quickly. As he opened the door, he heard the man confess for his benefit, "I've already resigned. I let her down. I never meant to let her down."

Haunted by the man's words and by his reference to Fallon talking about the pain of losing her own father, Booth had paced, written down notes about the case, and paced some more. He'd shaved for the second time that day, worked out again, and showered again. Time was creeping by so slowly that he thought he'd go insane if he had to sit for another hour. At some point, his phone rang, but he couldn't muster the energy and focus to cross the room to answer it. If it were important, they'd call back.

Later, he checked his phone and saw that Bones had called but that she'd left no message. He wanted to call her but had no idea what to say. "I want to see you but looking at you makes me feel even more guilty for letting him get to her?" No, calling Bones in this frame of mind was a terrible idea. But as time dragged on, Booth ran out of ways to occupy his body and his mind. At his wit's end, he even contemplated calling Sweets. He realized that meant he'd reached a low point, but he didn't even care.

He was poised to dial the number when he heard a knock at the door. Glancing at the clock and realizing that somehow it had finally become evening, he walked to the door. At 8 p.m., it might be Bones bringing food or Cam coming back over. He honestly didn't care which it was as long as someone was coming over to talk to him to keep him from going out of what was left of his mind.

His gut went on full alert when he opened the door and saw his partner standing there. She looked smaller somehow. Her back wasn't ramrod straight and she didn't quite meet his eyes. He noticed that she wasn't holding bags of takeout as she walked past him and into his apartment. He ignored the looks on the agents' faces as he closed the door. For the first time in years… the first time he could remember… he didn't want to turn around and look at his partner.

Knowing him as well as she did, Temperance didn't wait for him to face her. "This afternoon, a box was delivered to FBI headquarters. The courier who delivered it had received it from an unknown person. Apparently several people had been paid to find someone and pay them to deliver the box. That box was addressed to your attention."

Turning slowly, Booth met his partner's eyes. He watched her work to keep her composure as she continued to speak.

"They called Hodgins and me over to open the box. After it was confirmed that the box was not laced with explosives or otherwise dangerous, we opened it."

Booth felt as if the air had been sucked out of the room. He wanted to rush across the room and cover his partner's mouth so that she couldn't say anything more. He didn't want to listen. He did not want to hear this.

"We do not have enough evidence to confirm identity," she said, her voice trembling as she watched him walk across the room and sit heavily on one end of the sofa. "But the heart appears to belong to a woman, mid-thirties, in excellent physical condition… and…."

"And?" he croaked out miserably.

"And the blood type is a match for Agent Patterson," she whispered through her tears.

Booth inhaled sharply and held that breath for a long moment. Then he slumped back against the back of the sofa and stared straight ahead.

"Was there a vise?" he asked, his voice a strangely defeated monotone.

"Yes," she said softly. She watched as the pain ran rampant through him as he sat there comprehending what this evidence meant.

He slumped forward, his head in his hands as he propped his elbows on his knees. She watched as his shoulder shook slightly as he cried silently for his loss.

Biting her own lip and standing perfectly still, she let him mourn in silence. But after some time passed, she couldn't bear it any longer. Crossing the room, she sat down beside him and wrapped her arms around his chest. He flinched, but then she whispered to him gently, "It's a guy hug. Take it."

Responding instinctively to the gesture, he held onto her tightly as they both let the enormity of the situation sink in.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Some time later, Temperance pulled back and reached out to pull her partner's chin toward her so that he'd have to look her in the eye.

"We don't have enough evidence to be sure, Booth," she said gently to reassure him even though she was convinced she was only buying him time not to face his misery.

He sniffled and tried to look away, but she held his chin firmly in place. "You don't have to hide your tears from me, Booth. You've never let me feel guilty for showing you mine."

"I… I don't cry, Bones. My dad… I don't cry."

Her heart broke for him, and her own eyes filled again with tears for his pain and his worry, "Well, I don't either. But Booth?"

"Yeah?"

"Some things are private and don't have to be discussed. What's between us is ours."

"Thanks, Bones."

"I'm going back to the lab. I will tell you what I can as soon as I know it, okay?"

He nodded, aching to pull her close and sit there holding her instead of letting her go do the work they both needed her to accomplish. It was all he could do to watch her stand and turn to leave.

"Call me if you need anything, Booth. I can be here in ten minutes. Nothing is too small or unimportant. Call me… please?"

He nodded and cleared his throat, trying to appear more together than he felt.

_**[A/N: Thanks so much for reading and reviewing!]**_


	24. Chapter 24

_**[A/N: Hello again! So very sorry to have fallen off the grid. Real life has been too busy and stressful. I simply haven't had time to read or write much at all. That may continue for a while longer, but I wanted to pop back in to post a chapter. I also wanted to reassure those of you who still remember this story that I have never abandoned a fanfic, and that I will finish this story…. eventually!**_

_**I honestly couldn't remember where I'd left this story. Hopefully your memory is better than mine! Fortunately, I had most of this written already, so I managed the time to finish this chapter. **__**Thanks for your patience with the lack of new chapters here recently. I promise to post when time permits!**_

_**And thanks for leaving so many amazing comments and alerts here! Almost 300 reviews! I'm stunned and ridiculously grateful! You're all amazing for sticking with this story!**_

_**This one's for blindassasin... Just because she asked. If you're not reading her story, please go do so. It's amazing!]**_

Chapter 24: The Evidence in the Emotion

In almost all instances, Temperance Brennan spoke only the truth. The truth mattered so much more to her than to most people she'd encountered. Perhaps it was because she'd waited for so many long, lonely years to learn the truth of what happened to her parents. Perhaps it was because it took her so long to understand and accept the truth in her brother's abandonment of her. It had taken her years to move past the pain of his desertion to realize that Russ had loved her and left in hopes that someone else—some real, actual grown up—might be able to take care of her and help her be happy after their parents left. Part of her obsession with the truth was because truths were incontrovertible and enduring; they weren't fleeting like emotions or unreliable as so many people were. Truths could be recorded, examined, explained in factual terms. The truth was lasting and indisputable. The truth was her comfort zone. The truth was her standard.

Being other than honest did not sit well with the anthropologist. It was true that, under Booth's tutelage, she'd learned the art of lying for the sake of children or loved ones during holidays or when emotional support and connection mattered more than perfect honesty. She'd trained herself to show restraint and even to lie in small ways for the benefit of others' emotions. It still didn't come naturally to her, but she was working on it.

All those noble gestures aside, she did not under any but extreme circumstances lie to her partner. She'd lied to him that day in the lab when she'd kissed him and sent him away in to Patterson's arms. She'd done that for his sake—to spare his feelings over the longer term. She'd also lied to him the morning two days ago when Agent Patterson had gone missing. She'd known that Booth hadn't needed to know what was happening until they had something concrete to tell him. She'd only lied to him to postpone his pain and his frustration.

Today, however, she'd actually lied to him. She'd told him that she was going back to the lab, but she was purposefully headed somewhere else first.

She'd gone by to check on her partner midday-the day after she'd told him that they might have found his girlfriend's heart, and he'd been nearly inconsolable. The inactivity and lack of purpose were clearly wearing away at his composure. Booth needed something productive to do, and he had nothing of the sort to keep him busy. All he was doing was sitting and worrying and pacing and thinking the worst had happened. The optimistic man she'd long admired was behaving more like a hard, cold realist than a positive man of unquenchable faith. Probably not surprisingly, seeing him so cold and eerily rational caused her to react out of love and affection ironically keeping the balance of their relationship somehow stable amidst the chaos. Seeing him this despondent was not something she could accept. She had to do something about it.

So, she'd left his apartment with a lie so that she could go out and do something to ensure that he could regain a measure of what it was that made him so special. She was on a mission to rekindle his hope and renew his faith in something other than their partnership.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Across town, an emotional Temperance Brennan observed her mostly unfamiliar surroundings with less than her typical precision. She walked over to one side of the cavernous room and paused for a long moment as she considered what her partner would think of her doing what she planned. Closing her eyes and shaking images of his stunned disbelief from her mind, she opened the door to the small room and sat down inside. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Booth there in the room- guilt plaguing him, ready to confess some sin he'd committed.

She found the small, dark space rather foreboding and much more disconcerting than comforting. She supposed that was the church's intent—to terrify people into confessing their sins and forcing them to vow to live by their baseless religious edicts. She couldn't imagine what sins her partner—a very good man—could have to confess aside from killing people as part of his job. She could not comprehend the fact that Booth visited this particular confessional booth regularly. His obvious relief after leaving was always apparent, yet he would not discuss the subject of his confession with her. Not even when she argued with him loudly about it.

Not surprisingly, she had been entirely unmoved by her own brief visit to the confessional—she'd only entered because Booth had always insisted that she remain outside because she had no compulsion to visit the booth for its intended purpose. Realizing that Booth had been right—her entry into the room hadn't been appropriate, Temperance rose and left the room just as she'd heard the priest enter the other side of the closet. As she moved quietly away from the room, she hoped not to be identified by the room's now lonely occupant. She had left the space out of deference for her partner—not to offend his clergymen. She realized that leaving without starting what would have been an awkward conversation had been the best course of action. So she had left abruptly and moved toward the front of the room.

After placing an obscenely large donation in the small collection box and kneeling on the prayer bench as Booth had demonstrated for her to illustrate conventional norms of behavior and keep from drawing unwelcome attention to her presence, Temperance lit an entire row of candles. Then, she rose and moved to sit in an empty pew within the cathedral.

Part of her wanted to be back at the lab overseeing the re-examination of the evidence, but she realized that she was too distracted today and that, in her frustration, she might slow rather than accelerate their progress. She had given clear instructions to Hodgins for him to relay to three of her interns. She'd be back there soon enough, but for now she felt compelled to do the unorthodox just to comfort her partner—even if he'd never know that she'd done so.

About 20 minutes after she'd arrived at the cathedral, an older woman sat down near her, "May I pray for you, dear?"

"What? No, of course not. I don't believe in prayer."

"But you lit so many candles, and you're obviously distressed."

"As I suspected, I have not been comforted by complying with a traditional ritualistic practice of Catholicism. Perhaps my lack of belief in the outcome was destined to make this effort fruitless."

"Forgive me for asking, but why are you here lighting candles if you don't believe?"

"I'm here for someone else… someone who does believe."

"Well, if your friend is praying, I believe these candles will extend his prayers."

"That seems entirely illogical," she replied honestly. But, taking in the sympathy in the woman's expression, she continued, her voice quavering slight, "But it is nevertheless reassuring," Temperance confided to the woman who seemed to have honorable intentions.

As the women sat there quietly, the Monsignor entered the cathedral and began a time of prayer. Ever curious and becoming quite restless from her purposeful inactivity, Brennan leaned close and whispered to the woman, asking her to confirm who the man was and whether he were in a senior position within the church.

Temperance sat impatiently, watching the man perform rituals and pray with excruciating patience and devotion. As she watched him rise and move to the side of the altar, she rose and began to follow him. She was tired of inactivity. She had to do something to help Booth.

Flouting convention and propriety, she marched up past the pulpit and lectern, through the apse and past the high altar without genuflecting or making the sign of the cross or even pausing to consider the impropriety of her actions.

Stunned but amused by the woman's determination, the elderly woman sat in wonder as she watched the woman disappear into the sacristy behind the altar in her attempt to follow the priest.

"Excuse me!" Temperance demanded loudly in an attempt to garner his attention. She did not flinch upon finding the man stepping out of his vestments even though he regarded her unexpected arrival with shock.

"Madam, I must insist that you leave so that I may stow these vestments properly. If you are here seeking the confessional, you walked past it on your way in here."

"I am not seeking the confessional. I do not practice Catholicism, but I know where the confessional is. I am seeking the assistance of someone with authority here."

"Again, I must beg your patience. I will be with you in a moment. My work requires that I stow these items prayerfully and with care."

"I would not be here were this not an emergency. Do you and your staff travel to visit faithful patrons? I know someone in need of a… house call."

"Father Abe, is everything all right back here? Do you need my help?" a younger man asked as he entered the room to inquire about the unanticipated noise emanating from the typically quiet space. He'd watched the woman rush toward the altar and had hurried after her to help. He suspected she'd been the person who left the confessional just as he'd entered it. He had worried that she might be desperate.

"You…," Temperance said, moving closer to him and reaching out to pull him by his elbow. "Perhaps you are far enough from the top of the hierarchy here to be enticed to follow me to visit my friend."

"What is this about?" Evan asked, clearly puzzled by this woman and her determination to get what she wanted. He was too distracted to allow her comment to offend him.

"My partner…, she began before being momentarily struck silent trying to consider how she might explain the circumstances, "My partner is a devout member of this sect. He is in need of encouragement, and I am unable to counsel him in adhering to his faith because I do not share it. If you would be so kind as to come with me..."

The Monsignor tried to divert her, "Madam, if your partner requires assistance, he is welcome to come here any time. Our doors are open."

"I am not certain of the protocol," Temperance said after a moment's hesitation, as she reached into her purse, produced a checkbook, and began quickly placing her carefully controlled script upon it. "I am more than willing to make a generous donation to this facility in order to procure help for my partner. Perhaps you could replace the statue of Saint Christopher. I noticed that this particular rendition does not correspond to the one at St. Paul's. Or perhaps you could add a larger statue of St. Thomas More. I would assume that many public servants worship here and would welcome a larger symbolic representation of their patron saint. In fact, it is surprising that you have not planned for that likely circumstance."

Nonplussed, the Monsignor moved closer so as to question the woman further, but Evan nodded toward him as a request that he be allowed to work with her. He could only claim divine intervention, but he now suspected that he knew who this woman might be.

"You spoke of your partner. Is he your romantic partner?" he asked, watching a flicker of confusion flash across the woman's face.

"No. No, he's not," she said softly, unable to hide the tinge of regret that accompanied that admission. "We work together. He's my partner. He's in law enforcement."

Evan paused as he realized his assumption might have been correct. He hoped that nothing terrible had happened. "Has he been injured?"

"No, he's in normal physical condition. As I indicated, I am interested in procuring assistance for his spiritual condition. While I do not believe it is relevant, he considers his faith a source of comfort. I am willing to pay whatever fee you require for those services."

"Does your partner work for the FBI?" Evan finally had to ask.

"Yes. Yes, he does. He's Special Agent Seeley Booth. Do you know him?"

"I do," he said smiling at her warmly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Brennan."

"What? How?" she stammered, the expression on her face no less confused than that of the Monsignor.

"Your partner speaks highly of you, Dr. Brennan. I know Seeley. What kind of help does he need?"

"I cannot say with certainty since I do not give any credence to your frivolous religious practices, but I would assume that he would benefit from religious encouragement and prayers from someone with relative authority in those matters."

"He knows he can call me anytime for encouragement or for prayer. In fact, I have been praying for him regularly… and for you, Dr. Brennan. What in particular brought you to us today?"

"You need not waste your time praying for me," she admitted abruptly. She refused to consider what it might mean that Booth had discussed her with a priest. "But Booth would be reassured by your prayers. Please come with me. He… his girlfriend is missing..."

"You suspect that she's the kidnapper's latest victim."

Brennan stared at him for a long moment. "I can only assume that you have been informed about the case. Do not attempt to deceive me into believing that you received that information from a divine source."

Evan smiled at her again warmly, "Seeley told me about the case. He expressed his concern for his girlfriend's safety… and for yours. I am so sorry to hear that Ms. Patterson is missing. Let me get my jacket. I'll be right back."

In the younger man's absence, Temperance pressed an outrageous check into the Monsignor's hand and requested that he allow the other priest substantial time to help her partner. When the man attempted to tell her that they were not paid for tasks such as what she was requesting, she shot back that their attempts to collect offerings from parishioners were nothing short of requests for funding coerced by their inflicting guilt upon their parish. Fortunately, Evan's jacket had been nearby and he had returned quickly enough to intervene and stop the ensuing argument.

Modeling behavior by keeping his own voice low, he whispered responses to Brennan's loud and awkward questions as they made their way out of the cathedral and down the front steps.

As they moved quickly toward her car, neither of them realized that they were being observed or that their unified presence would activate other events designed to torture the man they were rushing to help.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Booth?" Temperance inquired loudly as she let herself into his apartment. She'd knocked repeatedly only to have him ignore her attempts to gain entry.

"Dammit, Bones! Go back to the lab!" he barked from the kitchen. She heard the clank of a bottle hitting the bottom of the recycle bin she'd bought for him and then the whoosh of the refrigerator door opening. It wasn't a good sign that Booth was drinking well before the customarily accepted hour, but she realized there was nothing contributing to feelings of "happiness" in him these days.

Recognizing instantly that Booth would prefer that his indiscretions be kept private, she turned to the man she'd brought with her, "If you'll just give me… give us… a moment," Temperance whispered to Evan who nodded in understanding and stayed out in the hallway.

She walked to the doorway of the kitchen and watched as her partner downed half a bottle of beer.

"You shouldn't be drinking alone," she said factually, drawing a squint from her partner.

"I get the people around me killed. The only way I can drink is alone," he growled.

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Booth. It's not an admirable condition."

"I'm not... You know what? I'm just frustrated, Bones. I can't work. I can't help find Fallon… I can't do much of anything but sit here and stare at the walls. Hell, I don't even have a car since the bureau took mine, so you don't have to worry about me going out and driving drunk. I can drink, and the beer's here. So I'm drinking. Want one?"

"I have to get back to the lab, and at least one of us should remain level-headed."

"Well, you're the level-headed one. Always. Damn, I wish I could compartmentalize like you do. Can you teach me that? How am I supposed to tolerate sitting here and waiting, Bones? Huh?"

"I understand your frustration. I share it. I'd much prefer to have you at the lab or out in the field working with me, Booth," she admitted, her emotion apparent in the quiet of her voice.

Her tone shook him out of his foul mood at least momentarily, "Hell, I'm sorry, Bones. You… You're just being the partner and the friend that I need. I'm sorry that I snapped at you," he confessed awkwardly.

After a long pause, she spoke to him, "I accept your apology. And I hope that you won't require one of me." He looked up at her with a puzzled expression, and she found the courage to speak to him, "I… I did something today that might make you angry..."

"What did you do, Bones? You didn't slip away from your guards or do something else dangerous…," he insisted even as he stepped closer to her.

"No. I… I confess to being frustrated by not knowing well what to do to bring you some measure of comfort under these circumstances."

He sighed in relief. At least she wasn't trying to get herself killed. He adored her. Seeing her obvious worry about him comforted him more than a little bit, "You're doing that, Bones. Just by being here… by being on my side..."

Bracing herself for an angry response from him, she continued, "Well, I took the liberty of doing something else… bringing someone else to talk with you."

"Sweets? Jeez, Bones! Tell me you didn't bring him here. I don't want him here analyzing my sports memorabilia and noticing that I haven't exactly been Martha freaking Stewart around my apartment lately... He'll start analyzing the shape of the dust bunnies and telling me things that are wrong with me..."

Despite her trepidation about the situation, she chuckled slightly. Booth was insufferably amusing—especially when he was trying not to be so.

"No, I did not bring Dr. Sweets over. Go brush your teeth and change your shirt."

"What? Why? Who did you bring over here?"

"Do you trust me, Booth?"

"What? Of course, I trust you. What kind of question is that, Bones?"

"Trust me. Go brush your teeth. Change your shirt. Then meet us in the den."

"I..."

"Please hurry. I have to get back to the lab, Booth..."

"Is it Pops? I just don't know if I can handle him right now, Bones."

"Go… Toothbrush...," she insisted. Grumbling, he conceded.

A few moments later, a visibly better kempt Booth walked into his den and looked around. Raising an eyebrow at her, he allowed his partner to lead him to the sofa and nudge him to sit down.

"I… I am not certain of the protocols involved in situations like this," Brennan began hesitantly. Glancing to the door that was obviously cracked open, Booth couldn't figure out why his partner was behaving so strangely.

A horrible thought crossed his mind. Surely she wouldn't. Oh God...

"Bones, tell me you didn't bring… you know… a woman here..."

Grinning and sparing both of them the pain of her response, Evan pushed the door open and smiled at his parishioner. "Your partner was worried that you'd be upset facing your priest several beers into a very early happy hour," Evan said with a grin as he leaned against the doorframe.

"Evan? What? Bones…?," he blurted out all in one breath.

The expression on his face was her undoing. "I… I'm sorry if this isn't helpful, Booth. I hoped that religious counsel might bring you some measure of relief during this stressful time. This should cover Father Caston's cab fare back if this was the inappropriate thing for me to do. I… I'm going to the lab."

She placed two large bills on the coffee table and turned to leave the apartment, pressing past the minister on her way out.

"Bones?" Booth called after her, emotion in his voice.

She paused, took a deep breath and turned to face him.

"Thank you, Temperance," he said softly, tilting his head to let her know how much her gesture meant to him.

"I have to get to the lab," she said stiffly before bolting from the apartment.

"Your partner is even more amazing than you described her," Evan said as he watched Seeley watch her walk away.

"She's full of surprises," he said wistfully.

"And she's remarkably generous," Evan confided.

"Man, I can't believe Bones went to the cathedral. How… how did she find you?"

"I met her when she was talking to the Monsignor."

"Oh God… did she say something that's going to get me ex-communicated?"

"I got her out of there just in time. But I think His Reverence will overlook her missteps when the renovations begin."

"What? I'm afraid to ask what that means." Booth was envisioning broken statues or doors or some other physical trauma Bones might have caused to the cathedral.

"Your partner was very concerned about you. She demanded that one of us come with her to see you. She wasn't above bribing us to do so."

"What?"

"I'm sure she doesn't want me to talk about it. All you need to know is that she was hell bent on getting help for you. Once I figured out who she was, I volunteered. Seeley, I'm so sorry to hear about Fallon."

"Thanks," Booth said, his voice barely above a whisper. Strange as it was and guilty as he felt about it, it had been nice to have something else to think about for a few minutes. But now his guilt returned full force.

"It's not your fault," Evan said, closing the door and moving into the room to sit on a nearby chair.

"But it is…," Booth admitted sadly.

"Dr. Brennan told me what happened, Seeley. It wasn't your fault."

"Bones… Bones told you?" Booth asked quietly, his higher than usual tone reflecting his genuine surprise.

Sensing that he'd only been told half the truth, Evan replied blandly, "She told me that you're feeling guilty about choosing to protect her and leaving Fallon alone."

Booth was stunned by the lengths to which Bones had gone to spare him pain. He cleared his throat carefully and mumbled, "Yeah."

"Why don't you tell me what's happened. We'll pray. Then maybe we can go out to get something to eat, and you can come over to my place for a while. Sitting here waiting can't be easy." 

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

About two hours later, Brennan had just finished a conference call with the FBI team exploring new evidence they'd obtained from the crime scene near Richmond. Apparently a family member of a killer Booth had arrested years ago owned several farms in the area. Rackley and Perotta were interviewing the man and his family in hopes of getting a break in the case.

Just as she headed out the door to go back to the platform to examine the victims' bones again, her cell phone rang.

"Brennan," she replied promptly, not checking to see who was calling.

"Hi Bones," her partner said quietly. With only those two words, she could hear that he sounded much more relaxed than he had in what seemed like forever.

"Hey Booth," she said, closing her eyes and sitting down hard in her chair.

"I… I just wanted to thank you for bringing Evan over. We talked and stuff. He's a really good listener. And you were right—talking to somebody who shares my faith really did help..."

"I'm glad," she whispered, relief flooding her system.

"I appreciate what you did, Bones. I mean it. Thank you."

Her breathing was all he heard in response.

"Hey, I think I'll go with Evan over to his place. At least it will give me different walls to stare at, right? I just didn't want you to worry. We'll be over there. I'll have my cell if you need… anything."

Sitting up to compose herself, Temperance replied evenly, "You sound better, Booth. I hope that Father Caston will be good company for you… what you need."

There was a long pause in which both of them were alternately thinking and hoping that Temperance would be what he needed even more.

"Really. Thanks again, Bones."

"You're welcome, Booth."

She hung up the phone, unbidden tears slipping from her filled lids. She sniffled and wiped at them quickly, turning to immerse herself in the files open on her computer.

"Sweetie…," Angela whispered from the doorway, clearly moved by her friend's tears.

"Oh… Hello, Ang… Do you have new evidence about the case?"

"No. Do you?" her friend asked, giving her time to recover emotionally.

"No. Nothing new. We keep running into dead ends."

"Bren, honey… Why don't we take the night off and go take a nap or something or go shopping or anything else that will give you a break?"

"I don't take breaks during cases. I can't… We have to find her, Ang."

"We will. Something will break. It always does. But you're stretched too thin here, Sweetie. You're exhausted. And I know that you're worried sick about Booth..."

Temperance stared at her friend for a long moment before speaking, "I'm the reason The Taker got to her, Ang. Booth… Booth left her alone to take care of me. If he'd just stayed home..."

"You can't take responsibility for his actions, Bren. Booth's a big boy, sweetie. He makes his own decisions."

"I realize that's true, and I realize that I didn't do anything to cause Agent Patterson to sneak out of her apartment, but I cannot shake these feelings of guilt…."

"Obviously you've been hanging out with Agent Studly too long. Catholic guilt's rubbing off on you."

Brennan didn't respond.

"Look, Bren, it's not like you to get this emotional about a case. I know this hits close to home and that you're uncomfortable not working with your partner, but you need a break… You know, so that you can get back into super science mode on this one."

"A break won't make this easier, Ang. It will just cost us time, slow us down."

"Do I have to call Booth about this? He usually drags you out of here so that you can come back refreshed. That's all you need, honey. Just an hour or so away…."

"This is different."

"How?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Brennan, you have to tell me what's wrong."

"No. I don't. I prefer not to talk about this."

"I'm calling Booth…."

"No, please… Don't call Booth."

"Why not? Because he'll agree with me?"

"No, because he'll only worry."

"Honey, you're his partner… it's okay for him to worry about you."

"Not now… He has enough on his mind," she said, her voice finally cracking and the tears returning.

"Okay. Spill it. What has got you so upset? Why are YOU feeling guilty about this case? Why are you being emotional and irrational?"

Temperance looked away and swallowed hard.

Alarm bells rang loudly in Angela's brain. Something was horribly wrong with her friend, "Tell me right now, or I'll call him..."

"I…," Temperance began, but she lost her ability to speak. When Angela pulled out her phone and scrolled to find Booth's number, she regained it. "That night… the night Agent Patterson went missing…. Booth was with me."

Something about her friend's expression and tone of voice slammed into Angela with the force of a Mack truck, "With you, with you?" the stunned artist stammered.

"I don't know what that means."

Resisting the urge to strangle her friend for her incessant cluelessness about her own heart, Angela tried to stay calm and encouraging, "Tell me what you meant. Booth was… with you?"

After taking a deep breath and swiping at the cursed tears which seemed to plague her endlessly these days, Temperance continued, "He came over to my apartment. He'd had a fight with Agent Patterson. He…. He told me it was over."

"What was over? Oh, God… You two haven't been cheating on her..."

Temperance was mortified by the suggestion, "What? Oh… No. Booth would never..."

"Then what!" Angela squawked, at her patience's end. It was obvious that something enormous had happened to shake her friend this much.

Realizing that she had to talk to someone and that Angela could be trusted with matters this important, Temperance looked at her friend earnestly, "He told me… he asked me… He told me that he loved me."

"Oh my God…," Angela said before the volume of her thoughts and emotions shut off her ability to talk. She just stared wide-eyed at her friend.

Temperance smiled at the emotions written all over her friend's face. "I know you're surprised. But I've known for some time. Things have happened, Ang... Things I never told you about... But none of that matters. He'd been planning to go to see her… break things off… But he never got the chance..."

"Oh, sweetie..."

"I… I don't want sympathy, Angela. I want your help. We have to find her. She has to be safe. Booth can't bear the weight of the guilt of knowing that she slipped away when he could have protected her…."

"Honey..."

"He's hurting, Ang… And I can't do anything to help him… We can't be partners, and I can't honestly just be his friend. Not after what he said... What we both said..."

"Booth knows that, honey. He understands. And I know that you're doing all you can… under the circumstances..."

"It's… I can't react the way I want to react. It's not fair to him, and it's disrespectful to her. I… this is killing him. We have to find her."

"We will, Sweetie." Angela half-glared at her friend when she looked up at her prepared to accuse her of having no way of assuring that they would indeed find Agent Patterson.

"We will, Temperance. We'll get this sicko."

Temperance looked at her friend and realized that arguing with her was as pointless as it usually was. She smiled at Angela, hoping that she realized how much her support meant to her. She'd expected a hug or sentimentality but Angela offered her neither.

"Platform. Gloves. Cause of death and suspect's identity. Pronto," she said with a gentle shove.

"I thought you said I needed a break," Temperance began.

"Oh, no. Not now. Not until we find this creep and you and Booth can finally stop being idiots."

"We're not..."

"Oh yes you are… Both of you. Idiots. Hot, in love, made-for-each other idiots. Hurry up and solve the case so that you two can stop postponing the blessedly inevitable."

"We're not..."

"Shush… work's calling. Go."

"Thanks, Ang..."

"You can pay me back later. And because you two have been keeping things from me—things you are going to tell me about at great length…. I think I'm going to make Booth kiss you in the middle of the lab. For an hour. Or a week. Hell, I may even paint the two of you standing here sucking face."

"Ang…," Brennan began, but her friend yanked her up by her elbow.

"You're a wonderful friend. Thank you," Temperance said over her shoulder as she left her office nearly smiling.

The awestruck artist stood there trying to absorb the enormity of the information she'd just been given. Leave it to those two to finally pull their heads out of the sand at the worst possible time ever. She sighed… It was about damned time. She just hoped that the situation didn't shut one or both of them down again and spoil what had to be their best chance at happiness.


	25. Chapter 25

_**[A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for putting up with the time between chapters here! I am so sorry that it's taken me this long to cobble together a new chapter. You are the most patient and most wonderful readers anywhere!]**_

Chapter 25-The Heart within the Darkness

A few days later….

A loud crash reverberated through the apartment. Concerned, the man leapt up quickly and ran to see what had happened.

Shaking his head and fighting a knowing smirk, Seeley Booth took in the scene around him. Evan lay flat on his back, a ceiling fan with a now-cracked light fixture lying just beside him, a gaping hole in the ceiling and a toppled ladder evidence of his doomed attempt to install the fan. Striding over quickly, Booth offered his friend his hand and helped the man up.

"Anything broken?" Booth asked Evan.

"My pride is bruised, but physically, I'm okay," the man replied.

Booth just grinned at him. He had to give it to Evan. The man tried really hard to make repairs in his building and in the homes of older or less fortunate parishioners. It was noble—the man's determination to be a help, save scarce resources for people he tried to help. Recalling his own not-too-long-ago troubles remembering how to make even simple household repairs, Booth was filled with sympathy for the man. However, he had to fight hard to squelch the impulse to tell Evan that he needed a Dummies book to begin to understand that he wasn't ever going to be able to interpret the "Ceiling Fans for Dummies" book he had probably tucked away on a table nearby.

Opting to help with the outcome even if his friend was beyond help himself, Booth set about picking up the debris and gauging the damage to the ceiling. Without glancing back at the man whose ego had taken a beating, Seeley jotted down a list of items he needed from the home improvement store. Turning to face his friend, he walked over and handed him the list—complete with the specs for replacing the broken light fixture. After passing the paper to the man, he reached into his wallet and pulled out several fifty dollar bills and handed them to his friend.

"Want me to pick up groceries, too, dear?" Evan asked in half-hearted frustration.

"I thought pride was a sin, Evan. Get over it. Besides, I need those supplies soon if we're gonna finish up here today," Booth responded, trying to give the man some space to deal with his wounded pride.

"Well, I could at least pay for the damage," Evan grumbled, but he stopped speaking when Booth held up a hand.

"Hey, I haven't run of paychecks yet, Evan. It's the least I can do. You've given me something to do… a distraction… a purpose…."

"Gee whiz… Let me out of here before you get all weepy on me, man," Evan responded, realizing that he had to stop his friend short of thanking him any more for the valuable help he had provided to the parish. Seeley Booth had been working wonders all over the neighborhood, but Evan didn't want to give him time to stop and think about that. The man didn't need any reminders of the pain and worry he had never been quite able to escape. Shadows of guilt and worry were always hiding in his eyes even when he pretended he was focused on something else. Even knew that they had to stay busy and keep the conversation light so that his friend could cope with his circumstances.

"Steaks would be nice, though, honey" Booth shot back, earning him a mock salute and a grimace from his friend. Evan could see that Booth was letting the man off the hook and perhaps saving himself a moment of wallowing in his grief that lay just beneath the surface.

Evan grinned. The teasing was worth it. Besides, Booth was making a major dent in the backlog of botched repairs he needed to make. Sure, he'd hear a few more than the typical confessions of lust from the female parishioners left drooling in the FBI-man's wake. He'd caught more than one of them standing and blatantly ogling the man as sweat soaked through his t-shirt or accumulated on his brow. He was also fairly certain that he'd probably never stop hearing people ask when Seeley was going to be back at his side "helping" with the repairs. He suspected they'd be missing the view as much as they wanted capable help. Even so, hard, sweaty, physical work had been exactly what the hurting man had needed, and, thanks to Evan's entirely limited home repair skills, there was an abundance of that work around for him to tackle.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Across town, Temperance Brennan paced in utter frustration outside the conference room. She had hardly ever been treated as an outsider when Booth was working a case. Instead, she had usually been right with him—at the center…. She sighed momentarily as she recalled that long ago conversation about how she and Booth were "the center." They had been the center of their professional and personal lives for years, but now there seemed to be no metaphorical center of gravity to ground their circumstances.

Revisiting her frustration and returning to her angry pacing, she walked up and then down the hallway. This was an outrage. She considered whether she should call her attorney and file a lawsuit. The FBI had no right to seize mail delivered to her at her place of employment. Knowing the agency had been overstepping, she had railed loudly against the head of the Jeffersonian's security department when he'd allowed Rackley and Perotta to take the box from her possession. Then she'd argued loudly with Cam and bristled when the woman had not helped her wage battle against the authorities. _Didn't they all understand that this package was likely evidence about the case of The Taker? Didn't they feel the same disregard for safety and propriety and caution? Didn't they need to find the answers as quickly as possible? Apparently not._

She ignored the resounding ache in what Booth certainly would have deemed her gut. It was abundantly clear that no one else here felt the concern she felt for Booth's well-being—not to the extent that she did.

When they'd taken the package from her, Temperance had raced out to her car and trailed the FBI vehicle all the way to the Hoover Building—determined to regain control of it. On the way, she'd first called Hacker and then called his boss to complain when Hacker had not given her satisfaction. She had blatantly ignoring the security guards who followed her when she bypassed security in an attempt to keep up with the FBI team and its package. Fortunately, Perotta had waved them off fairly quickly and reminded them that she was Booth's partner. Not even noticing the chaos behind her, Brennan had bellowed loudly at all of the staff she encountered, reminding them of her superior skill and abilities and threatening them for delaying her access to the evidence meant for her to review.

As she'd continued her vocal tirade through the building, she'd flinched as she'd seen Dr. Sweets jog up and listen in on the conversation. Fully anticipating that he'd pull her aside and start counseling her on keeping her cool, she'd refused to make eye contact with him. That is, she had not until the younger man had stepped forward assertively, reminded them all that Booth relied upon Dr. Brennan as the primary forensic expert on all his cases, and insisted that they were making a mistake in denying her access to the contents of the package. Stunned by his overt support, Temperance finally made eye contact with the younger man as the agents closed the door to keep both of them out of the meeting. She'd almost hugged Sweets for his bold support. Almost.

However, instead of talking to him or embracing him, she'd begun to pace, and she had been pleased that he had not interfered or attempted to calm her. He also hadn't spoken to her about what her anger might mean. One day she'd thank him for that, too. For now, she had to keep walking so that she didn't break the door down, steal the evidence, and risk being thrown into jail.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Just under two hours later….

With eerie calm and precision, a now driven Temperance Brennan snapped on gloves and stepped toward the examining table. Hodgins had completed his scrutiny of the box and its packaging and was standing back to wait for additional evidence to review.

The FBI had x-rayed the package and confirmed that it was filled with biological material but not laced with harmful chemicals or otherwise wired for explosion or inducing harm. Brennan had reminded them as they had returned the package to her that the Jeffersonian's Medico-Legal Laboratory had superior scanning equipment and could have reached the same conclusion an hour faster. Then she had taken the package from them and marched over to her office.

Without a word, Cam had nodded to dismiss all those nearby who'd assembled to tell them to disperse and leave the area. Few people remained. Agent Perotta stood at the bottom of the platform. She stayed a safe distance away to avoid any proximity to the forensic anthropologist who'd barely allowed her to enter the facility. Only Angela, Hodgins, and a very nervous Dr. Bray stood on the platform—with Dr. Bray staying far enough away to allow the scientist to work in relative privacy but ready to spring to her side if requested.

Barely maintaining the pretense of not being emotional about what the package might hold, Temperance slowly opened the box and peered inside. Her hard swallow was a sufficient visual clue to tell everyone remaining there that this was not good news. She swallowed again and summoned the self control to banish the tears she felt preparing to assemble in her tear ducts. Setting her jaw, she used forceps to reach inside the package and removed the folded piece of paper in order to read it carefully.

As she read the paper, she placed her left hand down on the edge of the table to steady herself. Angela moved closer to show moral support. Ordinarily, Temperance would have balked and insisted that she needed no such reassurance, but she was slightly comforted by the gesture.

Wordlessly, Temperance read the letter again. Then, realizing that the forensic evidence would be where she needed to focus, she placed the letter on an evidence tray and motioned wordlessly for Hodgins to take it. He stepped forward, read the letter, and glanced silently to Angela. Mirroring his distress, her eyes held her own worry about her friend. Nodding almost imperceptibly, Jack turned to move to his workstation to examine the letter more carefully. When Perotta started reminding him about the rules for chain of custody for evidence, he glared at her and told her that she'd better keep her distance. The sound of his predictable raving about government bureaucracy was the only sound echoing around the whisper-quiet platform.

With a precision she alone could display under these most heart-wrenching of circumstances, Temperance slowly moved to take items out of the box for more careful examination. One by one, she withdrew the items, her own emotion more evident with each item recovered. She held tightly to her composure—fearing it might be the only way for her to do this work. She shuddered with the reality that, for once, she might not actually want to know the truth. She did not want to review this evidence. But, given its significance, there was no option to shrink from her responsibilities.

Slowly and without even breathing, she extricated a small flap of skin from the container. To her well-trained eye and to Cam's, this skin was instantly recognizable as the fingerprint that had been removed from the tip of one of the victim's phalanges. Ignoring the sharp inhale from Angela, Temperance was painstaking in the care she took in removing another larger section of skin bearing a clear tattoo of a bird in flight. Paler but still determined, she reached into the box to pull out the last of its contents-a large clump of blond hair that appeared to have been sheared off unevenly. Sensing Angela drawing closer to offer support, Temperance held up a hand and wordlessly kept her friend at bay. The women did not make eye contact. Doing so would have allowed too much communication to occur. Temperance had to focus on her work exclusively. She simply could not bear to consider what it might mean.

Without saying a word, Temperance began examining the evidence. After scrutinizing the items carefully, she sent Dr. Bray in search of a list of supplies and then informed him of the specific tests she'd need for him to run in order to confirm whether the items were from the same victim and to confirm the identity of the victim (or victims). She heard the doubt echoing in her own voice as she pretended that there was any possibility that these items were evidence from more than one victim. Yet she immersed herself in science and logic and in her staunch refusal to jump to conclusions—even to the ones that were jumping around violently in her enormously capable brain.

Cam observed her staff in action but did not move forward to ask questions or to help in any way. By her silence, she had made it obvious that she was there more as support for Dr. Brennan than to review the evidence. One glance at the woman's face told her clearly that, despite her assertion that one could not reach conclusions until all the evidence was in, this woman suspected that the remains they were now examining were those of Agent Patterson.

When the clearly shaken anthropologist transferred the evidence to Cam because there were no Bones to study, it was all Cam could do not to embrace her. By sending only flesh and hair, the killer had obviously intended to keep the anthropologist from the center of the investigation. That realization made it even more difficult for all of them to remain clinical and professional. The look on Dr. Brennan's face had admitted a defeat she'd never have voiced out loud.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Hours later, preliminary DNA and blood and enzyme testing had all but confirmed that all three pieces of evidence were from Agent Patterson. Samples were rushed for expedited testing, but nobody doubted that full testing would produce confirmation of the preliminary data.

That same morning, official confirmation that the heart they'd received earlier had not been from the missing ATF/FBI agent had arrived. However, in light of this new evidence, nobody was encouraged about the outcome and hope for survival of the missing woman. Cam had e-mailed Dr. Brennan the news about the heart when it arrived. She hadn't had the courage to enter the woman's office and interrupt her silent vigil with Angela. She'd walked by several times only to see Dr. Brennan sitting stiffly on the sofa and refusing to talk to Angela about the evidence and what it might mean.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Later that evening, Temperance stood hesitantly outside Evan's apartment door. She'd called him earlier and filled him in on what had occurred that evening. She'd gone to FBI headquarters for a meeting of the investigative team. During that meeting, Cam had provided the evidence, and the team had arrived at the conclusion that they would keep searching but that they would now operate under the assumption that it was unlikely that Agent Patterson would be found alive.

The team then discussed the fact that someone had to contact the family of Agent Patterson. When Rackley had mentioned that Booth had been the primary contact, Temperance calmly noted that, as Booth's partner, she would contact the family and deliver the news. She'd stated clearly that she would not tell them that Agent Patterson was not living since the evidence was not conclusive, but she would notify them of the new evidence and explain that it brought on extreme concern for their family member's wellbeing. She'd declined Dr. Sweets' offer to assist on the call but thanked him sincerely. She'd also insisted that Booth not be informed or made part of that phone call. Seeming to realize how fragile her hold on her self-control was after the day they'd all had, the managers in the briefing consented to her wishes. Without hearing it from her directly, they all knew that she would also inform Booth of the news.

She'd risen silently and gone to Booth's office to make the call. After taking a long moment to compose her thoughts, she had made the call to Agent Patterson's sister Lydia. Enduring the woman's near collapse during the conversation, she had sat silently as the woman sobbed for what she assumed was her sister's certain death. Not bothering to dissuade her, Temperance said all of the expected things and offered as much sympathy and concern as she could. She used phrases she'd heard Booth deliver empathetically and repeated words of encouragement he'd offered to countless families of victims they'd identified.

She'd kept her composure until the woman insisted that Booth would not be allowed to be present at the memorial service the family would now be planning in three days. She'd argued with the woman about the fact that Booth would demand to be present. She'd flinched but held her tongue when the woman had realized who she was and when she'd unleashed all of her anger and frustration on her—accusing her of being the other woman—the reason that Fallon had been kidnapped. Ignoring her own wounds, she fought diligently to defend Booth's honor. She ended the call as diplomatically as possible and sat for a long time in the office, leaning back in the chair and allowing the essence of Booth to permeate her senses. Telling him this news was going to be difficult. But she had to hold it together in order to help him cope with its consequences.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Squeezing her eyes shut tightly for a moment and wishing that she had a faith or some other irrational guidance to convince her that she could get through this ordeal, she knocked softly on the door. The sympathy on Evan's face when he opened it made it even more difficult to stay calm and focused, but she moved past him into his apartment in search of her partner. Evan watched the woman and wondered if she had any idea how deep her devotion to Seeley was. Her urgent need to see him and to deliver what would be crushing news revealed more about her feelings for the man than an outright confession would have. He watched as she strode quietly into the apartment and then stopped suddenly. Evan saw her pause and absorb the image of the man she loved. He saw the pain she would have denied and her ache to rush into the arms of the man unaware of her presence. Feeling like an intruder, Evan turned and walked farther away to give them a moment to reconnect.

The sight of him in the kitchen making dinner was jarring for Temperance. Booth was obviously freshly showered and as happy as he might be under the circumstances. These few days with Evan had minimized the lines of worry around his eyes and across his forehead. He looked as relaxed as she'd seen him in ages. She filed away the memory knowing that his visage was soon to change. She hated to be the reason that all of his torment would come flooding back. Sighing, she looked back over her shoulder toward Evan miserably. He nodded sadly—clearly sharing her concern for their friend.

"Bones! God, it's good to see you," Booth exclaimed when he saw her. Forgetting everything else except his happiness to see her, Seeley crossed the room and wrapped his arms around her. She hugged him tightly, needing that embrace to bolster her courage.

He pulled her back at arms' length and looked at her, noticing how tired and sad she looked. His heart sinking, he hugged her again tightly, as much for his own sake as for hers. Then, suddenly needing space so that he could breathe, he pulled back and went to the kitchen, turning off the burner on the stove and retrieving three bottles of beer from the refrigerator. Almost unsteady on his legs, he placed two bottles on the kitchen table and retreated to the corner of the room. He sat in Evan's recliner, taking a long sip of beer and placing the bottle down on a coaster before bracing his elbows on his knees to wait for his partner to tell him the bad news.

Finding a courage even she had not known she possessed, she told him about the recent package, about its contents, about the fact that the heart they had found earlier had not been from Agent Patterson, and about their tentative confirmation that the other evidence had been. He nodded sadly, his voice unsteady as he explained that the tattoo was from Fallon's right scapula. Fighting tears, he listened as Bones told him that Fallon's family had been notified and that they were planning a memorial service for her in three days.

Booth shuddered as he realized that he'd be standing at a funeral for his lover in three short days. Despite the horror of it all, he held it together until Bones tried to reassure him that the evidence they'd examined in no way indicated fatal wounds or supported the theory that Agent Patterson had been killed. He loved her for staying his Bones, for reassuring him so emphatically, for dealing with all this crap she shouldn't have had to face—for him. Tears finally falling, he hung his head and wept silently for his loss for a few moments—for Fallon's suffering, for the crap they were all trudging through. Sniffing hard and swiping the tears away as quickly as they'd started, he pulled himself together. Relying upon his training and years of experience ignoring his secret pain, he stood slowly. After thanking Evan for his help and reassuring him that he'd call, Booth retrieved his bag and asked his partner if she'd drive him home.

Wordlessly, the partners rode across town to Booth's apartment. Parked outside, he spoke without looking at her. He thanked her. He told her he'd be going to Philadelphia for the funeral. He waved off her warnings about Lydia's insistence that he not be there. Then, not giving her time to talk to him about things that would make both of them too emotional, he thanked her again and told her that he'd call her when he got back into town later in the week.

Realizing his need for privacy, Temperance sat silently, wishing she could hug away his pain and his sadness. She watched him walk to the building, noting the subtle slump of his shoulders and the slower than usual tread of his footsteps—changes that wouldn't have been observed by others who knew him. She felt as if there were a lump in her throat as Booth paused to wave sadly in her direction. She watched as he checked to make sure that her security detail was in place. She was as moved by his attempt to help protect her as she had felt compelled to check herself to make certain that his team had followed him into the building. Aching to leave him alone but realizing that circumstances dictated that she do so, she'd driven home to fall into bed for another night's fitful sleep.

_THE HEART IN THE VI__SE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Two days later, an enraged Angela stormed out and slammed the door of her friend's office hard. She'd tried everything—guilt, bribery, outrage, badgering—but none of it had worked. Her friend would not be moved. They were all flying up the next morning in Hodgins' jet to Philadelphia for the memorial service. However, in typical fashion, Brennan had refused to go with them. Instead, she had blabbed "ad nauseum" about the illogical tradition of holding funerals—noting that this one was even more ridiculous since they had no evidence of Agent Patterson's death.

When Angela had begged her to go for Booth's sake, Temperance had shut down completely and asked her to leave the office. Raging that Booth needed her and that she was being a coward not to go hadn't worked, so Angela had eventually given up. Her friend could be so rigid and infuriating sometimes. She understood why she didn't want to be there, but it didn't make accepting it easier. Dreading the fact that they'd all have to pretend they could console Booth the way his partner could, she left to prepare for the trip.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Expecting a brush off from his boss given Angela's latest outburst, a quiet Hodgins stood in the doorway of Dr. Brennan's office a few hours later. Instead of insisting that he leave, she ignored him. She sat puzzling, a look of intense concentration on her face. Drawn in by curiosity, Jack walked into the room and sat down across from her desk. "Can I help?" he offered.

Surprising him, she snapped out of her thoughts, realized he was there and that he'd offered to help, and half-smiled as she nodded. Then she explained what was troubling her.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

The following afternoon, Booth stood uncomfortably in the corner at the back of the church where Fallon had grown up. He felt sweaty and uncomfortable, and, at times, as if his tie was literally choking off his air supply, but he gritted his teeth with determination to do the right thing.

He'd thanked the minister and met with the FBI elite and the agents who'd arrived to pay their respects. He'd successfully avoided Lydia who had glared daggers at him from afar. Refusing to be cowed by her insistence that he didn't belong there, he'd offered his sympathy—and his apologies—to her mother who had hugged him tightly and told him how much her daughter had loved him.

Counting the minutes until the ceremony would begin gave Booth something to do to distract him from his thoughts and his guilt and the increasingly blatant glares from Fallon's sister. Sighing, he checked his watch again. Twenty minutes. He could do this.

Cursing internally for having shown up so early, he resumed his perusal of the crowd from a polite distance—not quite able to shake his habit of sizing everyone up and getting a read on the room and its occupants. He might be off duty, but he couldn't stop his impulse toward law enforcement—even if it had failed to help him protect Fallon. He sighed again.

After being distracted for a short while applying tools of his trade, Booth's cool composure nearly crumbled when he looked over to see the crew from the Jeffersonian—his squints—file into the building. He told himself not to be disappointed when he didn't see his partner walking along with them. He knew her position on funerals and would have been more surprised if he'd seen her there. Swallowing hard, he braced as they approached him, their eyes telling him how sorry they were he was dealing with all of this. One-by-one the ladies hugged him and left tearfully for their seats. Wendell punched him on the shoulder and turned away too quickly. Evan, who had tagged along with the convoy grasped his hand and told him he was praying for him. Hodgins, the last to arrive, stood silently beside him for a long moment.

"You know Dr. B," he finally said in a hushed tone. "She doesn't believe in funerals."

Booth nodded, grateful that Jack had broached the subject so that he wouldn't have to keep wondering if Bones might come around the corner. He understood her absence completely—probably better than anyone else. In fact, he was now grateful that Bones hadn't come with them. Seeing the rest of them there had been staggering. Having Bones there would have made him too emotional. This would be easier without having her there.

After bumping Booth's arm with his shoulder in uninvited but welcomed support, Hodgins moved to sit with the rest of his team.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Ten minutes later, Booth started considering where to sit. Pacing and lurking around silently had been good for him—helped him deal with his nervous energy. He'd decided as soon as he'd arrived that he wasn't going to sit down until the last minute. He considered his options—sitting near the front of the building, with the FBI team, and with the squints. Then he considered moving to the back of the room and sitting alone. His thoughts about what to do were violently interrupted when he felt the impact upon his ribcage...

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

(No, I'm not mean enough to leave it there. Not today anyway.)

Almost knocked off balance completely, Booth fought to recover his equilibrium. On instinct and adrenaline, he held tightly to his son who had materialized out of nowhere to hug him tightly around his waist. It took moments for the reality of his presence to sink in. Still reeling from the surprise, he looked up to see Pops approaching with an encouraging smile. Grateful for the hug his grandfather offered freely, Booth grasped him tightly. His spirits were buoyed by the presence and support of two of his favorite people. Booth smiled in spite of the sad circumstances. He'd never considered bringing them, but, God, he was glad they were there.

Still smiling while trying to refocus and work on finding seats for them, Booth's breath caught and his genuine happiness faltered when his eyes landed on the person who'd driven these two people there to support him. Tears rushed in and were blinked back quickly as he made eye contact with Bones.

Smiling sadly at him from the doorway, she nodded at him and then looked away, unable to bear the emotion on his face. Booth took a deep breath and tried to calm his wildly beating heart as he watched her walk over to sit with the squint squad. Watching closely, he saw looks of surprise and then complete approval on their faces. He watched as she and Hodgins exchanged looks full of indeterminate meaning.

The lengths to which this woman—this woman who declared so wrongly that she did not have an open heart—would go to bring him comfort and be his friend…. It was almost too much for him to handle. Yet, because of her gesture, because of the presence of his family, he knew that he could survive this. She'd brought him exactly what he needed. And she'd given him the space that was appropriate-if not what he actually wanted.

_Bones..._

Stopping himself before he got caught up in thoughts about his partner that weren't going to make the day any easier and realizing that the ceremony was about to begin, Seeley ushered Parker and Hank down to a row with a few empty seats in the middle of the cathedral. Like Bones, he still wasn't convinced Fallon had really died, but it was time… time to say goodbye and pay his respects. He owed it to Fallon to show her the respect she deserved and to allow himself to grieve her loss. He owed it to himself to take the time to pray his way through her funeral and to try to begin to forgive himself for letting The Taker get to her. This wasn't going to bring closure, but it was something he had to do for her and for her family.

Feeling Parker reach over and place his small hand in his, Booth smiled at him and held it tightly. Had Bones known that having his family there with him would have simultaneously given him the added strength he needed and provided the impulse to stay strong for their sakes so that he could keep from allowing himself to be too emotional? He couldn't be sure, but he sure was grateful it was working out that way.


	26. Chapter 26

_[A/N: I very much appreciate every review, every alert, and all the time you've spent reading here!]_

Chapter 26: The Confessions in the Courtyard

After the memorial service, Fallon Patterson's family, friends, and colleagues moved slowly across the street from the cathedral to a small banquet room in a nearby hotel. As with tradition for these sorts of gatherings, the guests mixed and mingled and shared memories of the woman they'd come to pay tribute to today.

Twice, Rackley had been called out of the room to help guide work on the investigation. Twice, he'd refused to tell Booth was what happening. Whenever he had been unoccupied, the Jeffersonian staff had worked silently to surround Booth and engage him and Parker and Hank in conversation. None of them pressured Booth to make small talk. In their own endearing and often markedly awkward ways, each of them had made small attempts to start conversations and to keep them light and create a simple diversion from the events of the day.

As the afternoon wore on, Booth had thanked each of them briefly for being there. When he thought about how he intended to do a much better job of conveying his real gratitude later, his breath caught. Damn these squints for being so supportive and helpful. He understood even better now what bound them all so tightly together. Bones might have been the center of things at the beginning, but each of these people had an annoying way of getting under his skin and getting to him—not always in frustrating ways. Today reminded him just how caring and eager to help each of them was. Even so, now was not the time for him to make speeches and tell his friends how much they meant to him. He wasn't going to get all mushy and emotional—not here. He didn't want to be a distraction or to do anything to annoy Lydia even more than he already had by calling attention to the fact that he was there.

It seemed that his friends had all understood how Booth might be feeling. Evan had stayed close and had been a constant reminder of faith and support, but he had chosen instead to keep regaling Booth with stories of requests for "See-ley" to make repairs and with information about the increase in confessions of lust from parishioners whose voices sounded markedly similar to those they'd made repairs for earlier in the week. Booth had laughed along with him and had seriously welcomed his favorite priest's "unpriestly" behavior.

Surrounded by his family and friends and their support, Booth had used the time at the ceremony and his moments of reflection afterward to try to make peace with what had happened to Fallon. He had opted to treat this the way he would have the funeral of a fallen comrade. There could be no real peace to be found in such an unresolved, unsettling situation, and there was no way to camouflage what had actually happened, but he needed closure. He found that, although he wasn't convinced that she wasn't really coming back, he wanted to put their relationship and his feelings of guilt over how it had ended behind him. He ached with regret over not telling Fallon the truth. He cringed with the pain of the knowledge that she'd gone out into the night to help him.

Silently, he had apologized to her again. He told her how sorry he was that she'd gotten hurt. He willed her to understand that he'd have willingly traded places with her. He fought against the guilt made him want to hide or ignore the pain that accompanied this flagrant failure to keep everyone close to him safe.

Not surprisingly, the moment his thoughts turned to keeping those around him safe, his eyes searched the room as if by reflex for Bones. For the most part, Bones had spent her time whispering with Rackley about details neither of them were sharing with him or talking with Parker or Hank or conversing with her colleagues. Booth had felt her eyes upon him several times, but each time he'd been brave enough to look up at her, she'd turned away or walked over to start talking with someone else. He realized that she'd sensed his emotion and left him to deal with it; she hadn't done anything to make the day tougher to bear. Bones was being his partner as only she could. That choked him up even more than the squints' support that day. At the times when it really mattered, Bones wasn't awkward and didn't make people uncomfortable. When it mattered most, Bones was as genuine a friend as anyone could ask for. Yet, as much as most of him felt like rushing to her and holding onto her forever, he'd have been lying to himself if he'd pretended he hadn't been relieved that she'd let him off the hook.

As hard as he'd been trying not to focus on his partner, Booth was really still floored by all the things Bones had continued to do for him out of the purest form of friendship, but he knew better than to get too close to her or try to talk to her. Feeling more and more uncomfortable under Lydia's increasingly blatant glares, Booth stayed focused and tried to do the appropriate thing while staying out of the spotlight. He'd walked over and thanked a few FBI and ATF brass who'd made the trip and spoken at the ceremony. He'd kept a parental eye on Parker even thought the squints seemed to have both him and Pops pretty well in hand.

In his habitual scanning of the room, Booth had noticed more than once that Bones and Hodgins were huddled and talking. Afraid to walk over and find out that they were that focused on discussing some sort of morbid insect or disgusting bacteria or something, he hadn't approached. But he'd been curious. Those two were definitely up to something. _Great, now I'm sounding like the paranoid one,_ he thought and smiled slightly at himself.

He'd been so caught up trying to look as if he hadn't been spying on Bones and Hodgins that he hadn't noticed the woman headed straight toward him with fire in her eyes. "Seriously, Seeley! You have the gall to show up here uninvited and then to stand there grinning like you're scouting the room for your next lay? You disgust me!" Lydia hissed a bit too loudly.

"Let's get you and your vodka a breath of fresh air," he said loudly enough to let others hear that he was being civil to the woman who seemed determined to vent all her pain and frustration on him.

Lydia squirmed as if she planned to pull away from him, but those last few drinks she'd tossed back had left her unprepared for his strength and his composure. She'd started to yell at him, but the speed with which he led her out of the room threw her off balance and left her unable to speak. That is, until they reached the end of the hallway and walked out the door into a courtyard.

"Get your lying, cheating, two-timing hands off of me!" the woman screeched as Booth released his tight grip on her.

"Lydia, I know you're hurting…."

"You don't know how I feel. You didn't care how she felt. She died worrying that you didn't love her. She was alone. This sicko took her because of you…."

Booth stood silently as he maintained eye contact with Lydia but said nothing to defend himself. His silence only fueled her anger.

"What? You don't even care? You can't even muster the emotion to…."

"You can't hate me more than I hate myself for what happened. Say what you want. Get it out of your system."

"Why did you come here today? To look good in front of your bosses? To pretend you gave a damn about her?"

"I loved her, Lydia. I fell in love with her a long time ago. This time… it just wasn't working out, but I did care very much about her."

"Well, you've made your appearance and gotten your political leverage out of being here. You should leave."

"Fine," he said quietly. In actuality, he really was ready to leave. He didn't want to have this argument. It was clear Lydia would always blame him for all of this. Better to let her hold onto her anger since she was so determined not to deal with her own grief.

"And take that little slut with you…," she added as he turned away.

He paused and glared back at her, barely containing his anger as he fought for words.

Lydia kept pushing, convinced she'd hit a nerve, "You heard me… Trashiest thing I've ever seen, bringing your mistress to your girlfriend's funeral…."

"Bones is not my mistress. She's my friend. Leave her alone, Lydia."

"If she's crazy enough to show her face here, then I'll damn well talk to her however I want to. She has no right…."

Taking a dangerous step closer to the woman, Booth interrupted her by growling, "Bones was trying to get along with Fallon. She's worked her ass off trying to help us find her. She's done nothing wrong."

"You wouldn't feel the need to defend her if you believed that. Don't play coy with me, Seeley, I know what a creep you were to my sister."

"I'm leaving before I say something I regret. I'm sorry you lost your sister, Lydia. I did care for her, and I'd have willingly traded places with her. I'm sorry you're so angry you can't believe that. I'll go, but you'd better stay away from Bones. She's only here to pay her respects to your sister."

With that, he turned and left a still fuming woman in the courtyard. Lydia stood there growing more and more angry with him until she turned and started to follow him. She'd decided that she felt like slapping him—hard—right in front of his friends. He'd cheated on her sister and….

Just before he reached the door that led back into the hotel, Booth stopped short. Neither he nor Lydia were aware of the presence of the woman they were now discussing. He hadn't seen Temperance walk out into the courtyard from another hallway and take a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the bright sunshine.

"Leave her alone," Booth said in an icy tone.

"Get out of my way. I don't have to talk to you anymore. And I'll damned well talk to that tramp however…."

Lydia lost the ability to speak as Booth grabbed her, spun her around, and pressed her face up against glass beside the door into the building. She felt the heat of his anger and was overpowered by his raw strength. "Your sister knew how I felt… how I feel… about Bones," he hissed, pressing her a little harder into the wall. "Even if you hate me, you have no right to question her honor and professionalism and dedication to the same work your sister spent her life training for. Bones still hasn't given up on your sister. She won't until she has actual proof that Fallon is gone. She's being more loyal to your sister than you are—than anyone else is. She doesn't believe in funerals, but she came today because you gave up hope and demanded that we hold one."

"She wasn't invited!" Lydia hissed.

"Well, we damn sure didn't invite Fallon into our lives, Lydia! Bones and I were finally back together and we had a chance… we might have finally tried to make things work if things had gone differently. Fallon just showed up and started pushing like she always did. But you're wrong about the way things went down. Bones didn't try to take me away from her. She's the one who sent me to her. I'd never have started things over again with Fallon if Bones hadn't been trying to give me a chance to be happy. She sent me to your sister because she thought that relationship would make me happy. She's only done things motivated by friendship and honesty and love. Stay the hell away from her." With that, he released the woman and took a step backward. Suddenly free, she whirled and slapped him soundly on the left side of his face.

Temperance took a step forward as if to defend her partner, but she felt Evan's hand at her elbow. He shook his head slightly to encourage her to allow Booth to handle the situation. They both watched the heated exchange from the shade across the courtyard.

"Don't go back in there and embarrass your sister any more than you already have. And I'm serious about you staying the hell away from Bones. I'm just gonna take a minute here, and then I'll leave. You won't see me again, Lydia. I'm sorry you lost your sister. She was an amazing woman. I'm sorry I caused her pain."

She took a step toward him to verbally accost him again, but something about the defeated look on his face made Lydia stop. Shaking her head in frustration, she whirled and left the courtyard. From the other side, Evan also slipped silently back into the hotel, leaving the partners alone on opposite sides of the courtyard.

Temperance watched as Booth walked over to a tree and smacked its trunk soundly with the palm of his hand. She was grateful that he hadn't inflicted more pain on himself by punching the trunk of the deciduous plant. After pacing for a few minutes with his hands on his hips, Booth sat down on a bench and let his head fall forward into his hands.

Standing silently observing her partner, Temperance felt an uncomfortable twinge in her chest. Hearing Booth talk about her… about them… with a stranger had been disturbing. There had been an earnest sincerity in his words and his voice—one she suspected he had all too often hidden from her. And his anger, well… she could not doubt the depth of his feelings after seeing him react that protectively toward her. She recognized that utter, mindless, heartfelt dedication. It was what she felt whenever anyone threatened or injured him.

She was momentarily tempted to leave him there to collect his thoughts, but then she decided that now might be the perfect opportunity for her to put her plan into action. Mentally walking through the list of things she needed to do, she determined that it would be possible to alter her plans and talk to Booth now rather than later.

Taking a deep breath for composure's sake, she walked silently across the courtyard and sat down on the bench beside Booth. When he glanced up and saw her sitting there, he sighed gratefully and let his head fall slowly back down into his hands.

They sat there silently for a few moments before he sat up and leaned back against the wall behind the bench. "Thanks, Bones… For bringing Pops and Parker. That was… damn, that was nice of you. Really."

"I'm glad it helped," she said simply.

"Bones… you… I'd hug you, but I'm afraid… that I won't…," he confessed.

"I know," she said, effectively cutting him off, "Me, either."

Booth glanced away to keep from staring into his partner's eyes. Being this close to her was always wonderful, but now it merely made him ache with too many conflicting emotions.

He was shocked by the sensation of her fingers sliding against his own. Stunned he turned and looked down at their clasped hands. Nothing had ever looked or felt more right. It was all he could do not to pull her to him. But, again sensing his distress, Bones pulled her hand back, slipping a piece of paper into his palm as a poor substitute for the warm, soft, tingling touch of her fingers against his skin.

"What? What's this, Bones?"

"Read it later. After I'm gone. Don't fight this, Booth. I need for you to go along with this plan. Everyone's on board. Deputy Director Hacker cleared everything with the loftier ones for you."

"Loftier? You mean higher ups?" Booth asked, "Bones, you and Hacker planning? I don't like the sound of this already."

"Do you trust me, Booth?" she asked, begging him with her eyes to say that he did.

He swallowed hard but didn't hesitate before speaking. "Temperance, you know that I'd trust you with my life," he confessed in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Good," she said, her smile anchoring eyes suddenly misted over with tears. "Trust me about this. Everything's there. All the details. You can call me if you have questions or if you need me to do anything."

His heart banging wildly around in his chest, he spoke urgently to her, "Bones, you're not leaving again, are you? Tell me you're not jetting off to some island in the middle of a war zone or some God-forsaken place I can't pronounce."

She recognized his worry and was determined to soothe it, "I am not going on a dig, Booth. I'll be right here… in the United States. I have to work on the case. I will stay with my security detail. You have my word that I will maintain protocol and that I will not take unnecessary risks."

His gut was sending out alerts he could not ignore. Something wasn't right about this. Why was Bones being so elusive and secretive? "Why are you telling me this, Bones? If you're not leaving, then..."

"The letter explains everything, Booth. I… I really have to leave now. Trust me and go along with this. Promise me that you will."

"But I don't even know…"

She placed a hand upon his arm and they both sat for a moment allowing their bodies to react and be grounded by that simple, reassuring touch and the connection that symbolized the tight emotional bonds they felt. Temperance applied logic as only she could, "You know me, and I know you. I also know that this is best."

"Bones, this sounds awfully foreboding," he admitted. He wanted to grab her and hold her and make her explain. He wanted to rip open that envelope and read what was inside. He wanted to be able to show her that he trusted her, but the idea that she might be really leaving him again had his adrenaline pumping and his gut screaming at him that something big was happening. He couldn't calm down, and he certainly couldn't be rational—not if she were leaving him again.

"It's not foreboding at all. But I really must leave now…," she said as she attempted to stand and leave.

Booth tightened his grip on her to ensure that she couldn't just bolt away from him, "What's the hurry? Where are you…?"

Surprising him, she reached up and placed her index finger upon his lips. He flinched before he reacted immediately and strongly to the comfort of her touch, the softness of her skin, the impact of her proximity that made it difficult for him to breathe.

"Trust me, Booth. Trust me the way that I trust you."

He stared at her for several moments, exploring the depths and the honesty in those amazing eyes whose color really defied adequate description. Leave it to Bones to be able to handcuff him with a word and a look. He ached to demand more information from her, but he sensed that Bones had made up her brilliant mind and that he would not be able to change it. He owed her so much. She'd literally done more than he'd ever imagined she could to help him through this. The least he could do was to go along with her. She'd more than proven that she was looking out for him, "Okay, Bones. I'll trust you."

"Good. I'll call you soon, Booth."

She rose and turned to walk away, and he stood up automatically just because she had. As he rose to his full height, he thought his knees were going to buckle. Watching her walk away from him would always top the list of things he could barely handle. On unsteady legs, he strode after her and reached out to grasp her elbow as she retreated toward the doorway. Circumstances be damned, he wasn't letting her leave him—not yet. Surprised, she turned back toward him and crash-landed into his very firm chest. Noting the tears she'd allowed to fall after she'd turned away from him, he crushed her to him as soon as his arms reached around her, holding her tightly to him for a long moment.

They stood there embracing quietly for a very long time, each of them seemingly memorizing the perfect fit of their bodies to one another and relishing the utter peace and contentment that embracing brought to both of them. Slowly, their heartbeats became synchronized and the warmth and comfort of their unified breathing gave both of them what they'd been longing for.

Eventually, Temperance pulled back, looked into his eyes for a long moment, and then turned to walk away and back into the hotel. Still reeling from the ache in his limbs from her absence, he swallowed hard, reached down and smoothed the wrinkles out of the envelope she'd handed him, and slipped it into the inside pocket of his jacket. Then, after running his hands through his hair and taking a few deep breaths, he walked back over to the bench and sat back down.

He wasn't able to hold out for long. Worried about what Bones might be planning, he opened the envelope and pulled out the letter. He should have known not to underestimate Bones. He really could not have expected what was inside.

_[A/N: So yeah, I know this is moving slower than snails right now, but I am trying to remember how to write and trying to muster the energy to write what's coming soon so that it's worth your wait. Thanks for your patience with this story and its schedule of late!_

_Happy S6 Bones Finale Day! I simply can't wait to watch!]_


	27. Chapter 27

_[A/N: Thank you all for your patience with the pace of updates. I hope my schedule and my muse will cooperate so that I can update this one more frequently. I do appreciate your willingness to wait so long for new chapters and the time you make to read and review!]_

Chapter 27: The Regret after the Respite

As he slipped effortlessly into the perfectly heated water of the pristine pool, Booth sighed and took a moment to stretch and relax. After a few moments, he plunged beneath the water's surface and shoved off the wall hard enough to propel his lean body about a third of the length of the generously-sized pool. He enjoyed the feel of his muscles cutting through the water and the warm caresses of the waves upon his skin. He'd always been a natural in the water, but his years of military training had granted him skills of near-competition-level strokes. Rising slowly to the surface, he began the steady, rhythmic strokes he'd been tuning in order to keep himself in shape. Propelling himself back and forth across the pool was great exercise, and the repetition also helped him clear his head. He relished these early morning moments of peace and quiet. He knew Pops was already up and stirring around, but he generally didn't leave his room until later in the morning. Parker was exhausted from staying up late the night before, so Booth didn't expect him up for at least another hour—maybe two.

After adding eight laps to his previous morning's total, Booth emerged from the water feeling primed and ready for the day. Chest heaving slightly from exerting himself, he grinned without realizing he was doing so and whipped the towel off the chair to begin drying off. As he polished away the droplets of water running in tiny rivulets down his well-muscled frame, he closed his eyes and let himself feel healthy and energized and physically whole. Emotionally, he knew he wasn't quite in as prime condition, but he was very grateful to have access to such an amazing facility and to be able to share his time there with his family.

Mostly dry, Booth shuffled down the hallway from the room housing the pool to the spacious kitchen. Snagging a mini-muffin he hadn't been able to convince the cook not to leave for them, he popped it into his mouth and silently thanked the man for spoiling them. Then, he started searching in the refrigerator for something to cook for breakfast. Yes, he'd consented to a temporary life in this luxurious space, but he had refused—for the most part—to allow servants and complete overindulgence. He smiled remembering how Bones had called him "stubborn" for refusing to allow the chef to cook for them every day. Bones hadn't understood why he'd find it so entirely funny for her to call anyone "stubborn." He'd laughed until his sides had ached about her confusion. The more she'd spluttered and demanded that he explain his laughter, the harder it had become to stop laughing. The simplicity of that very Bones-y moment still brought a smile to his face whenever he remembered it.

Pulling out eggs and bacon, he began rummaging around in the now-familiar cabinets for pans. He pulled out bread to make toast and did the prep work for the simple meal. Pausing to realize that it was too early for him to begin cooking, he washed his hands and strode across the room to stare out at the view for a few moments as he partook of his first cup of coffee. He stood, admiring the crags and valleys on the vista and enjoying the view that stood in stark contrast to the manmade wonders of the nation's capital. It was all too easy to see God's handiwork here in the mountains, and he welcomed the reminder that the big man upstairs was watching over all of them.

Even beyond its ability to remind him of his faith, the peace and beauty there tugged at the core of his being. Just that gentle nudge reminded him of his partner again. He snagged his phone and started to dial. Tapping his foot as he waited impatiently, he couldn't help feeling disappointed when the call went to voicemail. "Hey, it's me. Hope you're having a good day. Give me a call when you have time." He paused for a moment as he considered telling her that he missed her. Opting instead to click off the call, he placed his phone on the table and turned back to lose himself in the view again for a moment.

"You should have told her that you miss her, Shrimp," Pops said from the doorway on the opposite end of the room.

"Mornin', Pops," Booth said, ignoring the older man's suggestion.

"You can pretend that I don't know what's going on in that pea-sized brain of yours, but we both know better," his grandfather said.

"You want eggs this morning, or should I make oatmeal for you, old man?"

"Stubborn, I don't know where you got that," Pops replied.

"Like hell you don't," Booth said with a smirk as he moved to start the morning meal.

The men continued their easy conversation long after Booth had finished preparing breakfast and they'd both eaten. Because he'd been eyeing his grandson carefully, Hank noticed the exact moment when the weight of the world descended afresh on his grandson. The younger man's brown eyes grew stormy and dark, and his posture became more stiff and less natural.

He moved to try to reassure Seeley who now could not hide his tension and worry, "She's smart, and she'll be careful. She promised you that she would."

"I wasn't thinking about Bones, Pops," Booth lied.

"Keep pretending if that makes you feel better. I bet you can't go five minutes without missing that gorgeous partner of yours."

Booth's patience with this line of badgering was wearing then. Pops had been at this for days-whenever Parker wasn't around. "Do we have to do this every morning? Yes, Bones and I are close. Of course, I worry about her. I hate being cooped up here like a prisoner knowing that The Taker could get to her… or to Cam… or to Angela…."

"We're going to have this conversation over and over again until you admit that you're not just worried about Temperance," Hank insisted.

Frustrated, Booth shoved his chair back from the table and busied himself with clearing the dishes and loading the dishwasher. He tried to ignore the fact that the dishwasher might have cost more than his last year's salary. Hell, the thing practically walked across the room and loaded itself.

As with all mundane tasks, this one ended fairly quickly-leaving Booth once again at loose ends and cranky.

Seeley had never been one to volunteer information. Hank had always had to poke and prod at the boy to get him to share the tiniest of details. Once, Seeley had been expelled from school for fighting. Terrified that the boy had begun following in his father's tragic footsteps, Hank had lowered the boom, grounded him, yanked him off the football team, and taken away his beat-up, hand-me-down car the kid had just spent his entire savings on repairs to keep running.

Two weeks later, after Seeley had missed one of the most important games of the season, Seeley's coach and teammates had come over and explained to Hank that Seeley had been defending a girl from her abusive boyfriend—that he had done the right and honorable thing. Even armed with the truth about the situation, Hank hadn't been able to get the boy to open up and tell him what had really happened. For as long as he could remember, Seeley's heart had been locked deep inside a vault, and he seldom allowed anyone to access it.

"I know you didn't have the best of childhoods…," his grandfather began again, trying to get his grandson to open up and talk to him. Hank knew he needed someone to talk to, and he feared that—without his partner around to knock holes in the walls he built around himself—he'd just bottle everything up and give himself an ulcer.

"Pops, can we please not go there?"

"I know you have issues about not being able to protect your mom and Jared… and about your dad and his drinking…."

"Pops, even my shrinks haven't been able to get me to talk about that. It's not going to happen. Let it rest."

"But we were okay, right? You, me, and Jared… we got by. I tried to love and support you boys even more than normal… to make up for things…. I hoped… I wanted to believe that you'd be able to work past your problems…."

It was concern for his grandfather that prompted Booth to say something—to reach out through respect and love to reassure the man who was annoying him with obviously good intentions, "You more than did fine by us, Pops. You saved us—Jared and me. We couldn't have asked for better from anyone. You know how much that meant to both of us. Still does. But that doesn't mean I want to talk about any of the stuff that happened before."

"What about the stuff that's happened since?" Hank asked.

"What? Nothing… nobody…," Booth stammered. Nobody had hurt him or Jared like that since his dad. He had no idea what Pops was talking about.

"Shut up, you big lug… I'm talking about the way you chase blondes until you bed them and then don't settle down. I'm talking about Temperance."

Booth just glared at his grandfather. He knew he was now the more physical of the two, but part of him was still afraid to be disrespectful—even though Pops was clearly hell-bent on crossing all sorts of lines.

"She loves you, Seeley," Hank explained in a voice teeming with affection and hope.

Booth flinched hard. Then he shifted to stealth mode and steeled his gaze to make it unreadable.

"She…," his grandfather began stubbornly again.

"Pops, what's between Bones and me… it's between us. Partner stuff."

Hank scoffed and shook his head, "She told me… on the drive up. She didn't say it the way normal girls would. She just… it was obvious in her concern for you… her planning for this… her obsession with making it easier for you to deal with everything…."

"I know. She's been amazing. I get it. I just…," Booth tried to deflect without sounding unappreciative about what his partner had done for him… for all of them.

"She's not just your partner, Seeley. Both of you have to stop pretending…."

"We're not pretending, dammit!" Booth growled as he smacked his fist down hard on the table, rattling the vase he couldn't afford to break and finally letting his temper take over his words. "Bones and I… I told her how I feel about her, Pops. We were going to be together. But then Bones pushed me away and told me to date Fallon… And then we lost her because of me."

"Wait? You told her? You told Temperance how you feel?"

Booth stood and strode to the window, but his emotions filtered out the view before him, "More than once, okay? I just… it's… This case… too much has happened…. It's not the time… I can't… I can't let myself think about Bones like that… not now…."

Hank ached to pull his grandson into his arms and hold him the way he had when he was a terrified little boy, "I'm sorry, squirt. I didn't realize… This has to be even more difficult for you than I imagined. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine… I just need this case to be over and for that creep to be behind bars… or not breathing…," he said in a low, dark voice.

"They'll get him, Seeley. Temperance will work her magic and figure out where they can find him. I know it."

Booth sighed. His grandfather's esteem for his partner sounded achingly familiar and struck a chord with him, "Yeah…. I just… I hate knowing that she's in DC and that I'm so far away. It's hard not being the one to make sure that she's protected, you know?"

"Yeah," convinced that his grandson had opened a vent on his pent up rage and frustration, his grandfather knew when to leave the boy alone.

Booth sat down and rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

"I'll shut my trap, kid. No more pressure from me, okay?" Hank offered with a charm smile his grandson had mastered long ago.

"Thanks, Pops," Booth said, his eyes thanking the man for caring enough to pester him.

Hank tried to lighten the conversation and give Seeley a break, "Hey, we'll be back in DC in four days. Things will be back to normal before you know it."

"I sure hope so."

Fed up with the mushy stuff, Hank shifted tactics, "Well, don't just sit there feeling sorry for yourself. We're on vacation, dammit. Go wake that lazy kid of yours up and feed him. I'm winning the dominoes championship today."

"You talk a good game, old man," his grandson replied with a challenge in his smile.

"I can still take you down, kid. Don't forget it."

"Wouldn't dream of it, Pops," Booth said as he rose and left the room in search of Parker.

The old man sat there quietly in the still of the now empty room. He now regretted the way he'd been goading Seeley about his partner. He'd thought the kid had needed a swift kick or two to make him wise up about his feelings. But he had completely underestimated his grandson. For him to have told his partner how he'd felt about her after all this time was huge. The fact that he had been willing to divulge that information to anyone else—especially someone so close to him—had been even more telling.

He sighed and sent up a prayer that the case would be resolved soon. It was high time those two got their act together and stopped wasting time. Hell, he and Martha had two kids by the time they were Seeley's age….

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

A weary anthropologist sighed as she put away her paperwork and closed down her laptop. She had only a few short minutes before her midday meeting, and she couldn't be late. Fighting back a yawn, she stretched several times to get her blood flowing more quickly. She had a long afternoon and evening ahead; she'd have to rest later. She also realized that it was illogical to expect to catch up on missed sleep despite how tempted she felt to crawl up on the sofa in her office and nap the afternoon away.

As she slipped folders and her laptop into her satchel, she looked around, content that she'd wrapped up the rest of her work in the lab. Propelled by a sense of hope caused by the new theory she'd started forming and by her belief that this next task would move them closer to solving the case, she smiled and sat down to retrieve her phone. Her smile widened as she listened to the voice of her partner drift across the miles. She'd finally been able to relax knowing that "enforced" vacation time at the Hodgins' mountain estate in West Virginia had been an ideal solution to the claustrophobia and purposelessness Booth had been facing. The "cabin" was enormous and had been equipped with a bowling alley, a movie theater, an indoor pool, and other amenities. Securing the facility was easy as it sat atop a tall mountain in a secluded area. Hodgins had willingly ramped up the already state-of-the-art security at the property. Apparently his ancestors had built the home during a time in which they feared attack for their financial successes. As such, it made for a secure and comfortable location for Booth to spend time relaxing with his family.

She sighed… and then her eyes misted over. Long ago she'd started thinking of Booth as her own family. She missed him. She ached to be there with Booth and Parker and Hank—playing games and relaxing in the fashion to which she'd grown accustomed when they were all together.

Hearing Booth's voice only made bearing the distance between them more difficult. Yet, this was essential. This was the best and most logical approach to their situation. She mocked the illogical part of herself that wanted to commandeer a helicopter and fly straight into the arms of the man she'd intentionally sent away. She had work to do—work Booth couldn't be any part of.

She smiled as she dialed his number, steeling herself to sound relaxed, rested and predictably clinical so that her partner would not worry about her. She had to be the one calm and hopeful in this situation in which her partner realistically could not be.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

At 10:45 p.m., an exhausted Temperance Brennan had moved from the hotel room occupied by Agent Perotta into her own adjoining room. She had waited patiently as both Perotta and Agent Benton had taken the time required to search her room carefully and give the all-clear. She had smiled as she waited, knowing that Booth would be shocked but proud of the way that she was acquiescing to overly stringent security measures. However, once they had finished their search, she had been quick to usher them out. Pausing in the doorway, she had told Agent Benton to go to his own room for the evening. She had promised not to leave or go near the door or heavily-curtained windows. Reluctantly, he had agreed—after gaining Perotta's assurance that she'd accept their room service order personally and that she would check on the doctor every few hours.

After assuring Agent Perotta that she planned to shower and go immediately to bed, Temperance had closed the door joining her room with the agent's. Finally allowing her exhaustion of the afternoon's mentally draining work to take over, she had put her hair up and showered quickly, slipping on pajama pants decorated with skulls and a soft t-shirt and climbing directly into bed without even checking her messages. She should have known that Booth had called again to wish her a good night. But she wouldn't have called him back even if she'd gotten the message. She'd have sent a text to avoid more conversation that made it difficult to breathe whenever she thought about him. She had simply been too tired even to do that. She had fallen asleep within seconds of lying down in the comfortable bed. She dreamt of the conversations they'd had that day and about the suspects they'd crossed off their slowly shrinking list.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Many miles away, Seeley had slept like a baby. He wouldn't have admitted to anyone that he had been completely worn out from playing in the pool with Parker for hours. He could keep up. He was in great shape. But talking about Bones with Pops, chasing Parker around all day and spending so much time in the pool had left him tired—wiped out. He'd fallen asleep immediately after climbing into bed—something that hadn't happened in forever—not since the night he'd held Bones and promised her he'd set things straight. Not since the night before all hell had broken loose.

He had risen early, relishing the feel of being well-rested and as relaxed as he could remember being. He had swum his laps, cooked and eaten breakfast, and planned to spend the afternoon bowling with Parker and Pops.

He'd just run upstairs for popcorn and Cokes enough to feed an army of bowlers when he heard it. Immediately on alert, he had rushed to his room and grabbed his weapon and shut off the safety. By the time the helicopter had landed on the roof, he'd been crouched behind something that looked suspiciously like a turret and had stood ready to take the helicopter and anyone who leapt from it down. However, he had lowered his weapon and put the safety back on the moment he'd gotten the all clear signal from Rackley. After ensuring that Booth wasn't going to shoot him first and ask questions later, Rackley had disembarked from the helicopter and run over to yell to Booth that he should go change clothes. He had assured him that everything was fine—that they just wanted him in on an important meeting at the Hoover Building.

Thrilled to have something productive to do, Booth had rushed to his room and changed. He had met a confused Pops and Parker in the hallway and told them that he'd be back by evening—that he had to go to a meeting. When Pops had looked worried, he had reassured him that Rackley had said that everything was fine.

After rumpling Parker's hair and promising him an evening bowling tournament, Booth had reminded his son to work on his schoolwork while he was gone. Bones had arranged for Parker to get all of his assignments in advance. They'd worked on them daily—making sure that this impromptu vacation didn't put Parker behind academically.

Working quickly because the chopper had still been whirring loudly on the rooftop, Booth had double-checked with the security team to make sure that they would be on guard even more than usual until his return. Convinced that everyone was safe and accounted for, he had made his way back to the rooftop.

Ducking down for safety as he'd been trained, Booth had run slowly toward the copter and boarded it expertly. However, the moment he had sat down on board and looked back toward the house, he had noticed Evan on the roof walking toward them. Confused by the priest's unexpected presence, Booth had thrown the door open again and motioned for his friend to board the craft.

"Evan, what are you doing here?" Booth shouted over the whir of the motors.

Evan stepped aboard and reached toward him to offer a handshake, their customary greeting. But when Booth shook his hand and placed his other upon it for support, Evan quickly slipped his hand out of Booth's grasp and slipped the nylon restraints around his wrists, pulling tightly as he'd been instructed. Stunned by this unexpected move, Booth had been temporarily immobilized. He'd never have allowed anyone but Evan to get the jump on him like that. Ranger training would have enabled him to foresee and forestall any such attempt at restraining him. But given these circumstances, it wasn't until he felt someone slip the handgun from his lower back and put the larger restraint around his torso and upper arms that he had reacted. Given his surprise, he'd been too late. It had taken two men to tighten the restraint that tied him to the helicopter's seat, but they'd been able to secure it before Booth had started struggling. He'd been fighting hard by the time Rackley and Jenkins had wrapped another nylon band around his legs to bind them together.

Cursing wildly and looking at Evan in utter disbelief, Booth demanded to be released and insisted upon an explanation. He'd shot visual daggers at his priest as the man had leaned close—perilously close—and whispered that he'd be praying for him.

Looking guilty and worried, Evan had slipped out of the vehicle and closed the door, hating the look of betrayal he'd seen on Seeley's face. Swallowing hard, he had reminded himself how necessary his betrayal of his friend had been. He also hoped that his friend would understand his actions soon enough.

"Rackley! Jenkins! I will have your badges if I don't kill you with my bare hands for this! What the hell are you doing? You'd better hope I can't work myself out of these damned restraints! Let me loose, dammit!" Booth raged without ceasing.

Avoiding eye contact with the other agents on board, Rackley gave the man time to rant and rave. He'd expected at least this much of an outburst. He knew that what he had to say would engender another more extreme bout of anger from the man struggling against restraints he knew he couldn't free himself from.

Risking bodily injury, Rackley and the other agents carefully turned Booth to the side, moving him to face the center of the helicopter. Booth didn't make it easy for them to move him. He was pretty well past the point of thinking about anything but how he could inflict bodily harm upon anyone who put themselves in the wrong position. Fortunately, the agents had expected as much and had managed to maneuver him without allowing him to injure anyone.

After giving the man a few moments more to sulk and to plot their deaths or at least their permanent bodily harm, Rackley knelt down in front of the seat across from Booth and made eye contact. He was keeping a safe distance. But the look on Booth's face was dark and entirely dangerous. A chill ran up his spine when he made eye contact with the man. Damn, this was going to be even harder than he had imagined. Steeling himself and relying upon every bit of military and bureau-based training he'd ever had, he swallowed hard and spoke clearly, "Agent Booth, we have all but confirmed that, at 23:20 last night, The Taker broke into Agent Peyton Perotta's hotel room in rural West Virginia. He slit the throat of the waiter pretending to deliver room service and then attacked Perotta, sending her to the hospital with life-threatening stab wounds. She's stable following surgery and expected to be able to return to active duty after a long recovery."

Upon hearing those words, Booth grew still, and his expression shifted from sheer anger to partial sympathy. Perotta was a good agent. He hated to hear that she'd been wounded. He was just wrapping his brain around those details when the reason for his bondage was broached carefully.

"Perotta fought hard before she went down. She did everything she could," Rackley continued.

"Perotta's one of the best. She's a tough broad. I'd want her on my flank any day," Booth said, puzzled by the details they were giving him about his fellow agent's condition and her valiant effort. None of this explained why they'd need him—or why he'd be restrained like a damned animal….

Looking down and refusing to lift his eyes to Booth's as he spoke, Rackley continued, "After he disabled Perotta, The Taker entered the adjoining room and then… subdued and then kidnapped Dr. Brennan."

_[A/N: Don't like the view from the cliff? Blame Colleen… it's all her fault. I tend to misbehave when she goes on vacation.]_


	28. Chapter 28

_**[A/N: Over a month between chapters? Terribly sorry for the very long wait. **__**Wow… I was too busy even to realize. **_

_**I have struggled seriously of late to get these ideas all down and in a form I can tolerate posting. **_

_**On the positive side, I was temporarily distracted with two happy one-shot ideas. Had to get those down and posted to clear my head. Maybe all that "happy" has warped my brain, messed with my angst-loving mojo or something…**_

_**Hope this doesn't leave you feeling frustrated after waiting so long. Thank you all ever so much for your patience and your amazing reviews, kind alerts, etc.]**_

Chapter 28: The Terror in the Truth

Cold.

Dark.

She definitely detected motion. After a few moments, she ascertained that she was in a moving vehicle.

Lying on her side with her legs and arms bound and unable to see anything, Temperance worked methodically to gather evidence from her environment. She quickly realized that the conditions within the space were artificial and would not likely indicate her location. She could not hear the traffic nearby, but her senses confirmed that she was moving in a vehicle. Attempting to roll onto her back was painful and—as it turned out—pointless. She was confined in a space too small to allow for that much movement. Cringing in agony, she attempted to roll onto her stomach and in the other direction, but she did not make it very far. She surmised that she must be locked in some sort of container that was smaller than 3 feet by 5 feet. Based upon the sounds she could detect from her movement, she suspected that the container was made of metal. Fighting her fear of being confined in small spaces, she searched for more evidence about her location. She could hear the regular influx of air into the small space, but she could not ascertain its source.

Battling against the effects of the drug and the forced slumber it had caused, she tried to remember how she'd ended up in this situation.

_Booth… _

She closed her eyes and fought off images she couldn't avoid imagining. It wasn't difficult for her to try to guess his reaction upon hearing the news that she had been captured by The Taker. She was being irrational, but Booth's imagined fury made her unable to care. Had she not been taken hostage, she'd have insisted that she would need more evidence to prove the identity of her captor. However, she now knew instinctively that she had been kidnapped by the animal that had been plaguing her partner for weeks.

She berated herself for not noticing a sign or a clue that might have helped them establish the killer's identity sooner. She should have known. Booth would have felt something in his gut; he'd have sensed that something was off about the man she'd just interviewed.

_Booth…_

Painful as it was to think of him, she couldn't seem to get thoughts of him out of her mind. She hypothesized that it was a defense mechanism. Thinking of Booth kept her calm and gave her hope. It was only logical that she think of him while realizing that she was likely on the verge of becoming the next in the series of people killed by this man. Thinking of Booth was the logical course of action. Of course, Booth would find her. He'd never let her down before. She couldn't bear the thought that he wouldn't find her again this time—as unlikely as that seemed.

Struck again by the irony of the situation, she replayed the previous day's interviews mentally, trying to identify subtle signs she'd missed. She had known that she wasn't adept at reading people—not the way that Booth was, but she'd actually attempted to pretend that Booth had been there with her adding personal observations about mannerisms, ticks, and other signs of stress or anger that might have been clues. She'd actually imagined that she had heard his voice whispering to her about little details she noticed during the interviews.

She hadn't been off working on her own. As planned, both Agent Perotta and Dr. Sweets had also been there with her. Despite their gifts for reading people and situations—gifts she did not possess, they hadn't noticed anything, either. There was little consolation in that fact now, however. Of all the interviews they'd conducted over the last week, the one with The Taker had been the least suspicious of all.

She now hypothesized that that in itself should have been a warning. She hated the acuity with which she could now see all of the signs she had missed—all of the things Booth would learn she'd missed. Things that would haunt him when he learned them after it were too late to make a difference. After she was dead. Remembering their long ago conversations about the importance of – despite the irrationality of –visiting cemeteries to talk with lost loved ones, she began to wonder. Would Booth visit her gravesite and berate her for her inadequacy? Worse, would he visit that site and cry for her? Or, would he visit her gravesite at all? Would The Taker leave him alive to suffer, or would he, too, become another victim in the man's sadistic plan? The thought that she might be expediting this man's plans to kill her partner was intolerable and made her feel physically ill.

Mentally shrugging herself out of her miserable thoughts, she began focusing afresh on the facts, on events, on the evidence she had at hand. She'd been the one to suggest that they revisit each relative of each serial killer on the list of potential families whose children or family members might have a grudge against Booth. The bureau had initially balked, claiming that they'd already exhausted all those leads, but Temperance reminded them that they hadn't sent Booth to do the original interviews and that it was likely that other, substandard agents might have missed details that might have helped identify the kidnapper. When they'd resisted again, she reminded them that people were still dying and that they had no other tangible leads. As might have been expected, she'd been able to convince them all of the rationality of her plans.

Having Booth interrogate each of the victims personally hadn't been possible under these circumstances, but she had hoped to apply what she'd learned from him and to bolster those skills with others she could call upon. Relying upon the combined psychological expertise of Sweets, the FBI's profiling experts, and predictive modeling she and Hodgins had contributed, the team had narrowed the short list of potential cases giving rise to The Taker to fifteen.

Methodically, she, Agent Perotta, Dr. Sweets, and a security team had traversed the country interviewing people to rule them out as suspects or to determine they needed additional scrutiny. They'd gone to Minneapolis, Chicago, Boston, Manhattan, and St. Louis in four days. Then they'd returned home to DC to plan their next round of interviews. Fortunately, a number of potential suspects were within driving distance, so they'd been able to interview families in Virginia, southern Pennsylvania, and West Virginia. After those close-to-home visits, they planned to travel to the West coast for the last of the meetings. Hodgins had loaned his private jet for most of their initial air travel, but even luxury had been exhausting at the pace they'd set. Whether logical or not, road trips to nearby states had seemed less taxing and shorter. She had cherished the quiet time riding by car and used it to catalogue what she'd learned and to look for signs about who the killer was.

It had seemed prudent at the time, but, over the last week and a half, Brennan had intentionally misinformed Booth about her travels. She had told herself that she was just following protocol—that Booth could not be made privy to plans for the investigation. Moreover, these surreptitious trips were the primary reason for her plans to ensconce Booth away in the mountains. She'd never have been able to move about so much, so freely if he'd been in town.

She'd told him that she was traveling for a book tour the day after he'd settled into the mountain retreat. After hanging up on her to call and threaten her security detail to stay on high alert, he'd called back and accepted the news as well as she could have expected. Fortunately, she'd been home once or twice and able to field his calls from her apartment or the office. The fact that he had not become suspicious had reinforced to her that he trusted her completely. She'd felt guilty about deceiving him but had convinced herself that she'd confess her lies of omission to him soon enough—hopefully while telling him they'd caught The Taker. It was only now that she felt truly guilty for lying to him. What if her last conversation with Booth had been filled with lies?

Not one to allow herself time for illogical, unproductive thoughts for long, Temperance tried to recall the events that had led to her confinement in this dark metal box. She remembered leaving the last interview frustrated that they were no closer to identifying The Taker but surprisingly comforted by the affection with which the man—Marcus Carson—had spoken about her partner. She'd baited him and Dr. Sweets had attempted all sorts of maneuvers to coerce him into displaying anger or frustration with Booth, but this man had remained solidly in Booth's corner. He'd earnestly requested that they thank Booth for all he'd done for him and told them that he hoped to be able to thank him in person one day.

Replaying that conversation now sent chills up her spine. He'd obviously been applying double entendre throughout much of the conversation. He'd been speaking the truth often enough to be perceived as honest; however, she could see clearly now that he'd also been threatening her partner. Her blood ran cold before it warmed with the heat of her anger. If she found a way out of this captivity, she would not rest until she saw this man dead or rotting in jail.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Had he not been fully prepared for the noise and motion within the cabin of the helicopter, the pilot might have been knocked off course. The initial silence of the flight had been deafening. He'd strained to hear some sort of noise or reaction. He'd actually gotten chills imagining Booth had remained completely calm and silent in the fact of shattering news. But the primal roar that erupted from behind him was even more unnerving. The force of the voice screaming, "Noooooo!" was deeply disturbing. He'd hear that voice in nightmares for months to come. He'd heard less emotion from men dying bravely in combat. He was actually relieved he didn't have to see the man falling apart; hearing it happen was horrible enough.

For a moment, Jack Young suspected that Rackley and his team had failed to subdue Booth or that the former Ranger had managed to remove himself from the restraints and that he was now taking out his anger upon them. He could not believe the noise and the movement coming from the helicopter's main cabin. Nervously, he called back to check on them. A few moments later, a clearly shaken Rackley stepped forward and let him know that everything was okay. It went without saying that nothing was actually okay, but Rackley reassured him that the extraction was going according to plan.

As he turned the copter toward FBI headquarters, Jack grimaced as he felt the movement behind him again. Booth must have come unglued. It took a hell of a lot of movement and strength to shake a helicopter this large. He dreaded having to lay eyes upon the man causing this machine to bump around unnaturally. He didn't want that man to believe he'd been part of the plan to deceive him so that he could be told unimaginably horrible news.

Booth didn't remember anything after hearing Rackley tell him the worst news he could have imagined. He didn't remember yelling like a wounded animal. He didn't remember glaring at the men as if he wanted them all dead just because they'd heard the news about Bones. He didn't remember kicking so hard against the seat across from him that he'd slammed the entire seat to the side and whacked his head hard—too hard—against the door of the helicopter. He didn't remember straining so hard against his restraints that he drew blood and started tearing into muscle. He welcomed the pain. He needed the pain to make him feel alive. Because they'd just told him that Bones might not be. And an enormous part of him died just hearing that possibility.

That split-second in which he'd calmed down enough to register a coherent thought passed too quickly. He'd simply reacted physically because his mind was incapable of processing the information he'd just been given. Knowing he wasn't going to be able to break free didn't stop him from trying. He'd strained so hard that he had to be on the verge of a stroke. He couldn't hear Rackley begging him to calm down. And without even realizing he'd done it, he'd head-butted the man as soon as he'd leaned down over him; then he'd kicked his legs out from under him. Once an obviously wounded Rackley had crawled back to a safe distance, Booth had begun eyeing the other men in the helicopter, daring them to come close enough for him to take them down, too. Restrained or not, he could take them all down. They all needed to pay. They'd let Bones….

He barely felt the pinprick of the needle in his arm as one of the men moved behind him and sedated him. As his brain became fuzzy and his heart rate was lowered artificially, he realized that they must have drugged him.

Despite the high dosage, it took a while for Agent Booth to succumb to slumber. Even more impressed than they'd already been, the men exchanged looks conveying respect and sympathy for the wounded man before them. Willing to take the risk, Jenkins leaned close from the safety of his position behind the man and whispered, "You can do this, Booth. When we get there, we'll wake you up. We're with you, man. We're going to find her."

Booth mumbled something incomprehensible as his head fell forward onto his chest. The men sighed audibly and moved to help Rackley up. They were only 20 minutes outside of DC, and it was clear they needed a solid plan for how to handle Booth when he woke up. They'd known he'd blow a fuse, but they'd seriously underestimated his reaction. They all feared they had not seen the worst of his wrath, and none of them was brave enough to consider facing the man without his being completely restrained.

Now still and falling into a forced artificial sleep, Booth felt his body relax despite the fact that his heart still felt overworked in his chest, "I'm coming, Bones," he thought before everything faded to black.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Her near-clinical recollection of her capture was interrupted when Temperance remembered the scene in the room adjoining hers at the hotel. She'd received a phone call from Mr. Carson and had been elated when he'd admitted remembering something that might help them find the kidnapper. Falling perfectly into his trap, she'd rushed through the door connecting her room to that of Agent Perotta's. Stunned upon seeing the man lying there obviously dying from the gaping wound near his carotid artery, she'd turned to shout to Agent Perotta only to see her lying on the floor at the back of the room. Apparently Carson had taken her by surprise from behind and injected her with some toxin or nerve agent which had immediately caused her to lose consciousness. To calm her worries, she developed a mental checklist of possible chemicals that could have been used. She then catalogued their side effects. She supposed she'd been loaded into this container for transport after the drug had taken effect.

She now realized that Agent Perotta's injuries had been serious and extensive. Temperance hoped that she'd been found in time to be hospitalized. She felt guilty about the woman's injuries. Her expedition to interview potential suspects had led to the death of the hotel employee and to serious injury of Agent Perotta. She'd also allowed herself to become vulnerable. She might be the next victim. With Agent Perotta unable to fill him in and with only Dr. Sweets' psychological profiling skills upon which to rely, Booth would have too much evidence through which to search in order to find her. The sheer volume of time it would take for him to follow her investigation made her weary. Booth was amazingly talented, but he would be facing a nearly impossible task. Even worse, she knew it was unlikely that the bureau would allow Booth back on the case. Still, she knew inherently that he would work and do everything within his power to find her once he learned that she was missing.

Her thoughts were interrupted when the vehicle stopped and remained parked. Bracing for battle and fearing the unexpected, she lie there waiting for her kidnapper to reveal himself. She would fight him with everything she had. She had to fight. She had to break free or to buy time so that Booth could find her.

_Hurry, Booth_, she thought before she felt the box begin moving out of the vehicle.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

At the Hoover Building, a silent team of people stood waiting for the medication to rouse the sleeping agent. They'd opted to restrain Booth on a gurney. They'd restrained him fully—as they would have a person who'd be considered a danger to himself or others. Both his arms and his legs were anchored by padded restraints. None of them liked the fact that they were taking this precaution, but nobody had provided a more appealing plan of action. They were all dreading facing Booth when he realized what they'd done to him.

In the reverberating silence, Rackley turned and asked Dr. Sweets to talk to Booth when he woke up.

"Me?" Sweets squeaked nervously.

"You're his shrink," Rackley reminded him. He hated dealing with kids at work—especially untrained civilian ones. His face was throbbing, and he really didn't have the patience to babysit this kid right now.

Sweets was panicking at the thought of talking to Agent Booth, "I… No… Look what he did to you… He'll KILL me. I'm too young to die," Sweets stammered as he backed toward the door of the room.

A frustrated Hacker scowled at the young man. "Agent Booth won't kill you, Dr. Sweets. He's a sworn agent who protects people and who values human life. Sure, he's angry, but Booth won't kill anyone."

"I have to disagree. I know him. He's going to blow a fuse when he realizes that I approved of these interviews—he'll blame me for Dr. Brennan's capture. Without Agent Perotta here to take the fall, I'm a dead man. I… I'll help, but I want protection. He'll kill me. I tell you… leave me in here when he finds out, and he'll kill me and ask questions later."

"He's right," Caroline Julian said as she entered the room and scowled at the scene before her. "Booth will snap him in two. I'm betting on him taking out two or three more of you. Don't underestimate Seeley's need to get out of here to look for his partner. Don't pretend you're going to stop him from doing that, either."

"Ms. Julian, we can't authorize Booth's return to duty…," Hacker began.

She smirked at him dismissively before speaking. "You can, and you should. You people have mucked this up left and right. Give the man his badge and his gun or he'll go after her without them."

"Bones…," Booth muttered as he slowly woke up. He continued whispering her name. After growing even more pale, a terrified Dr. Sweets left the room. Rackley took a step backward. Only Hacker seemed unintimidated by the man who was slowly gaining consciousness.

The sight of Booth waking up and straining against the restraints jarred them all.

"Take it easy, Cherie," Caroline said in a soft voice. "You know I'm not part of this travesty, but they won't unlock those restraints if you don't behave. You don't have time to wait. Deep breaths, Seeley."

"Unlock these now," Booth ordered to the room at large.

When nobody stepped forward, he glared at them one-by-one.

"Cherie, you're gonna need to tell these people that you're not going to kill them. You're gonna need to stay calm and answer some questions."

"Caroline, he has Bones," he said so earnestly that the typically verbose woman was struck silent. She could only nod at him in sympathy.

"Unlock these cuffs," Booth growled in a low voice. Rackley stepped forward and spoke slowly. Booth saw the damage he'd inflicted on the man earlier. He didn't feel an ounce of guilt about taking him down. He was fully prepared to take out the entire room once they freed him from the restraints. He had to get to Bones.

"They won't authorize your return to full duty, Booth, but we need your help on this case," Rackley began.

"Let me out of here. My partner's… My partner needs me."

Hacker stepped to the side of Booth's bed and spoke to him in a calm voice, "Booth, we have invested a terrifying amount of resources from multiple departments on this case. We'll find Temperance. We need you to spend time looking at the evidence. Maybe you'll see something we missed."

At that very moment, Booth stretched far enough to grab the end of Hacker's tie and yank his head down hard enough that it smacked the bed rail. He wrapped the tie around his hand and pulled it harder. He didn't pause for effect. He looked straight at Rackley. "Unlock me now. I don't have time for this bull****. My partner needs me. If you were ever a cop, do the decent thing and let me out of here. Don't make me step over Hacker's body and yours to get to her."

As Hacker moaned and writhed in pain and in an effort to find air, Rackley moved close enough to unlock the restraints, not bothering to stay at a safe distance as he did so. The moment the last restraint was removed, Booth released Hacker's tie and allowed the red-faced man to stand back up to his full height.

"Agent Booth…," Hacker began, but Booth interrupted him. "I need my gun."

"You most certainly cannot…," Hacker began, but this time, Rackley interrupted him, "Take mine." Extending his arm, he handed the weapon to Booth. An unspoken conversation happened between the two agents as an incredulous Hacker ranted uselessly.

"Are you crazy, Rackley? Booth's clearly not stable enough to..."

"Here are your credentials and your security badge, Cherie," Caroline said as she stepped closer to Booth. "The Director said for you to get busy and solve this case."

"What? He… How…?" Hacker stammered.

"Agent Booth has been restored to duty and is now in charge of this investigation. Files are in your office, Cherie," Caroline said smugly. She watched as frustration dawned on the other man's face.

"But he just attacked me… he'll…," Hacker insisted.

Booth snatched his FBI credentials and badge from Caroline and left the room without a word to anyone. He had to find Bones. Nothing else mattered.

"You're just lucky he didn't wring your neck while he had the chance. If I were you, I'd make sure not to get close enough to him to give him time to consider doing that," she said as she left the room to follow Booth to his office. She'd pulled strings and gone to the Director knowing that Booth would be the most likely person to be able to find Dr. Brennan. She'd owed it to the woman to put things right and to give Booth a chance to save her.

She glanced over at the flustered Deputy Director and scowled. She'd never liked Hacker and was pretty disappointed that Booth had only bruised the man's cheek. She started to leave the room knowing that her work there was complete. But when Hacker spluttered about pressing charges, Caroline whirled and leveled one of her classic glares at him, "You breathe one bad word about that good man, and I'll wrap you up in so much red tape that you'll end up the solo agent in charge of minding the FBI's Antarctica field office."

Hacker considered arguing with her and then thought better of it. Truth be told, Caroline Julian frightened him even more than Booth did. He left to find an icepack for his throbbing cheek.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

When his office door banged open, Lance Sweets glanced up toward the noise and then instantly turned pale. He thought about running, but he was too terrified to move. He sat there looking into the face of the most determined FBI agent he'd ever seen.

"You… gather every single file from my office and yours and take them over to the Jeffersonian," Booth growled as he glared at the younger man.

A question crossed Sweets' expression, but Booth didn't have time to listen to him. "I'm forming a team to review the evidence. We have to find Bones, and we have to find her soon. I can't stop and think about the fact that you probably screwed up and let this happen to her, Sweets. But you owe her and you owe me, and you'd better get your ass over to the conference room at the Jeffersonian. You will not talk, you will not sleep, you will not psychoanalyze anyone except The Taker until we find Bones. Are we clear?"

Sweets tried to speak but couldn't. He merely nodded and watched as the agent turned to leave his office. He exhaled slowly, grateful that the man had not done him bodily harm. Too terrified to keep Booth waiting, he left the office to search for a cart he could use to haul the files to the Jeffersonian.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Camille…," Booth said as his old friend picked up the phone.

"Oh God, Seeley, we've been so worried…. Are you… How are you holding up?"

"I have no choice but to hold up. We all do. Look, I just… I can't be at the bureau right now. I need your help. I want to work out of Bones' office. I'll need a conference room and security passes for a team of agents."

"Whatever you need. Can we help?"

"I need you and the squints to help me find her, Camille. We can't… I can't lose her…."

"You won't, Seeley. We'll find her. Come on over."

"Thanks, Cam…," he said quietly as he clicked off the call. Across town, the worried pathologist took a deep breath. At least Booth was back on the case. If anyone could find Dr. Brennan, he could.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Forty-five minutes later, Booth's new ramshackle team was assembled in the conference room at the Jeffersonian. Everyone sat quietly awaiting direction from the man at the head of the table. They all watched as he took a moment to gather his thoughts.

Ever decisive, he began barking orders and assigning tasks to the agents and the squints assembled. As he finished they all rose and moved silently to begin working to assemble the evidence they'd need to locate his partner. Their energy and dedication to this project was unspoken but completely evident. He relaxed the slightest bit knowing that this team had his back.

Content that everyone had enough to keep them busy, Booth grabbed a box of things from the table and left Sweets and the few agents he'd handpicked to help working in the conference room. Without speaking to anyone, he took the box to Bones' office and closed the door.

The very essence of his partner overwhelmed him. He stood for a long moment with his back against the door just breathing in the familiar scent of her office. After that brief pause, he moved to the sofa in her office and sat down. Placing the box beside him, he reached over and picked up a throw pillow and hugged it tightly to his chest. The scent of his partner's perfume wafted up, and he felt tears rush to his eyes as he let her scent wash over him.

He needed this. He needed five minutes to be alone in her sacred workspace. He needed to see the place where she should be safe and working. He needed to smell her perfume. He needed to sort through this box of her things from the hotel room where she'd been staying. He needed to ground himself in her so that he'd be ready to go out and find her.

He had to find her. He had to be in time. There just wasn't any other option.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Across town, a shaky forensic anthropologist felt the container she was in lurch forward and then stop abruptly. She banged her head on the metal and winced from the impact. She could only assume that last erratic motion had been intentional—to cause her pain or to wake her—or both.

She listened carefully. She heard the sounds of metal clanging and the turn of at least one key—perhaps two. She'd been attempting to catalogue the sounds when she was blinded by bright light. The door of the cart she'd been stowed in had been slammed open, leaving her momentarily disoriented.

Adapting quickly, she shifted so that her bound ankles slipped out of the small box and onto the floor. Moving carefully, she rolled out of the box and into a sitting position on the floor. Glancing around quickly, she spotted her kidnapper immediately. Before she could utter anything to him to show her defiance, he smiled a disturbing grin at her and said, "Welcome to your new home, Dr. Brennan. Make yourself at home. It won't be long until showtime."

She was prepared to protest, but she couldn't help her eyes from wandering around the room. She was locked in a cage the size of a small room that appeared to be secure enough to be inescapable. She should have been terrified. She should have been frustrated. She should have spat at the man and called him a coward.

But when she looked the other direction, all those thoughts left her mind. She wasn't alone in the cage.

_**[A/N: Promise it won't be as long until the next update. Thanks so much for sticking with this one!]**_


	29. Chapter 29

_**[A/N: Thanks for your patience and for your reviews and for your alerts. You are amazingly generous and encouraging!**_

_**I'm so sorry that I broke my promise about updates here. This time, the delay just wasn't avoidable. Thanks to a nasty thunderstorm, I lost all home computers and other electronics, including the file for this story. With replacing and troubleshooting electronics and taking 2 long overdue vacations, I haven't had any time to write until now.**_

_**Glad to be back and writing again. Hope the delays haven't impacted the intensity of what's happening too much. Didn't want to break this one here, but figured you'd waited long enough. Eager to hear what you think about this chapter!]**_

The Heart in the Vise

Chapter 29: The Heart in the Vise

Once Booth had started working on the case, he had become a force of nature. He let a constant stream of memories of Bones talking about his alpha male tendencies and his over-protectiveness spur him on and motivate him to work through exhaustion and hunger and—even though he would not voice it to anyone—fear.

Even though Angela and both of the other agents had already screened the recordings of the recent interviews, Booth had insisted upon reviewing the tapes himself. And at least he'd had the foresight to send everyone out before he got started. Upon turning on the first one, he felt his knees give out as soon as he saw Bones on the screen. Slipping into a chair quickly so that nobody would notice his distress, he had hit the pause button and focused intently upon the image of his partner upon the screen. As in their everyday existence, Bones looked larger than life. She had always captured his full attention and affected him intensely with her presence. This time was no exception. He sat staring at the image of her and aching to reach out and touch her, hold her, have proof that she was safe. He was mesmerized by her beauty, overwhelmed by her determination, and impressed with her obvious effort. _Damn, Bones, what did you do?_

After gulping hard and promising silently that he'd find her, he hit the play button again and started watching. Had the circumstances not been so dire, he'd have smiled and probably would have called her to tell her how proud he was of her efforts. Bones had led each of the interviews, and she'd done so like a pro. She'd deferred to Sweets and Perotta when they'd had something to inquire about, but she'd run the meetings, gotten people to open up, and asked the right questions. It had warmed his heart to see tangible proof of the things she'd learned while working side-by-side with him over the years—the things he had been able to teach her. There really weren't many things that Bones could learn from anyone. The fact that he'd been able to teach her new skills was something he was terribly proud of and moved by.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Booth had to stop from time to time to refocus his attention on the interviews-on the subjects of those meetings and on the details being provided. It was far too easy for him to focus on watching Bones do the work they both loved even though doing so really wasn't going to help him find her. He had to stop more than once and remind himself to watch everything else while he listened to her beautiful voice. He had to find clues about what had happened and who had kidnapped her. There had to be clues. The kidnapper had to be one of the people they'd interviewed recently. His gut told him so-when it wasn't churning wildly with worry for the woman who looked so driven and so damned beautiful on the screen before him.

Watching tape after tape, Booth had fought against the urge to become frustrated. He hadn't caught signals or picked up on anything that might indicate a problem. He had to be missing something.

Yet, try as he might, he hadn't been able to find it. In frustration, he had e-mailed Sweets and asked him to come to Bones' office half an hour later. He'd planned to make the kid sit and watch the tapes again—they had to find whatever information they might contain that would point to the kidnapper's identity.

After continuing to view recordings of Bones' interviews of the families of the serial killers he'd put behind bars over the years, Booth had glanced down at his watch and realized that Sweets was due to arrive in about five minutes. Sighing and dreading that meeting and fearing that it wouldn't uncover anything more that would help them, he had turned his full attention back to the third interview from the day on which she'd been kidnapped—he'd already run through all the tapes and had started going back through all of them sequentially looking for clues. As the last interview he'd seen had ended—and just before the recording cut off, Bones had turned and said something to Perotta. Then Booth had watched as his partner reached into her bag and retrieved something from it. The film had then ended abruptly without showing what had happened next.

It hadn't been an outright clue, but it had been an indication that part of the meeting might not have been recorded. He had made a mental note to ask Sweets about that possibility.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Brennan assessed the situation and moved quickly to take action. She knew that her time to maneuver was short. It appeared that her fellow captives would not be of help putting up resistance to their captor, but she felt strangely comforted by the fact that she was not completely alone. Moving quickly and silently, she traversed the cell to the set of makeshift bunk beds at the other side. Upon each bed was a shackled captive. The man on the top bunk moaned when she reached out and touched his frail arm. She quickly catalogued his injuries and determined that they were serious but that he'd die very slowly from them. However, his state of malnourishment was much more serious. She assumed that he'd be dead within days if he didn't get food and water and proper medical care for the effects of his starvation and dehydration.

Whispering quiet words of assurance and comfort to the man, she moved to examine the unconscious woman on the lower bunk and was completely shocked by what she saw. More than moved by the helpless image of the woman lying there, she quickly ascertained that this woman had been malnourished for a shorter time. However, she was suffering from more extensive gashes and wounds.

Temper flaring and without any thought of self-preservation, Temperance turned to face her captor.

"You are not behaving logically. Based on the skill with which you killed the victims we found, it is clear that you have no need to practice the methods by which you disable and kill your victims. Why keep them here? Why torture them and leave them to suffer? Why wound them and leave their wounds unattended? The others…," she began, but her distress cut off her words. All she could mumble was the one resulting truth—one which would make it even more difficult for Booth to find her, "You've changed your modus operandi."

"I'm no longer the subject of your interviews, Dr. Brennan," the man sneered at her distastefully. "You are no longer in a position of authority, and I am under absolutely no obligation to respond." He paused as if he considered turning away but then was drawn nearer to her. His visage a dreadful mask not quite hiding his truly dark, empty soul, he spoke to her in a voice that chilled her to her core. "Since you're newly arrived, I'll be hospital and answer your question."

"I kept them because wounding them and then doing only as much as was necessary to keep them alive has given me something to do while I waited for you," the man said simply—without showing any emotion at all.

Temperance took a step closer and scowled at him, "Well, I'm here now. Let them go now that you have me. Do what you've been doing to them to me."

When she bravely maintained eye contact with him and said nothing, he continued, "You are in no position to make demands. I will do what I want. As for those two carcasses, they are dying. They are none of your concern. If I were you, I'd spend my remaining time praying or thinking about relaxing, peaceful things. Because your time, Temperance, is likely to be even shorter than theirs. You don't have any time to spare or to waste worrying about anyone else—especially these two insignificant people."

"Now that you're here, I can do what I've planned to do to hurt your partner. Now that you're here, I don't feel the need to tinker with random bodies and to hear people scream. Not until you start screaming, anyway…."

With that eerie threat, he turned and left the silent room by way of a doorway. On instinct, she sought evidence as she tried to tamp down her increasing fears. However, given the angle, she was unable to see what lie beyond the room in which they were being held. Even straining, she was unable to hear any sounds coming from his direction.

Turning back to the woman, she sat gently upon the edge of her bunk and placed a hand down on her arm supportively. She shrugged off the irrationality of the action, given the fact that the woman was not aware of her contact or cognizant of her words. "We'll get out of here. You're not alone. They're looking for us. They'll be here soon. He… He'll be here in time." Even though she was beginning to doubt that Booth would find them, she had to keep reminding herself that he was looking. Booth wouldn't give up, so she couldn't either. She sat, trying not to dwell upon the fact that Booth might find her like this—or in worse shape. Silent tears streaming, she sat trying to provide comfort to others—comfort she now dreaded would never be hers again.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Dr. Lance Sweets had called upon every procedure, method tactic, and exercise he'd learned in school and on the job in order to try to calm himself down. Despite the fact that part of him knew that Booth wouldn't actually kill him, he was terrified that the man might attempt it before calming down and realizing that killing him wouldn't bring his partner back.

The current situation reinforced poignantly the fact that guilt was a powerful emotion. Lance had been wracked with it this entire case. He felt guilty that he hadn't picked up on a key psychological element that would have led them to the killer sooner. Ever since he'd learned that Dr. Brennan had been kidnapped, he felt terribly guilty that he'd approved the meetings, accompanied her, and failed to identify anything that might have told them that someone they'd interviewed might have been the killer. He knew that he was projecting his own guilt upon Booth. He knew that it was easy to envision Booth's blaming him for Dr. Brennan's kidnapping—because he fully blamed himself.

Out of that guilt and out of his true desire to help find his friend and Booth's partner, Lance had done as Booth had requested. He'd spent hours poring over evidence trying to look at it with fresh eyes—willing himself to find the key they'd consistently missed. As bleak as things now seemed, he wouldn't allow himself to give up hope. They simply had to find Dr. Brennan. Foremost, he knew that he wasn't remotely qualified to begin to try to help Booth cope with her loss if they didn't find her in time. Secondly, he didn't want to bear the guilt of contributing to her death. Thirdly, he knew that she'd work ceaselessly to find him if the situation were reversed. Lastly, he just wanted to put an end to this misery for all of them.

Despite his determination and earnest desire to help, Lance's current emotional state was not good. He'd just had a meeting with the other agents working on the case and they'd passed along some disturbing theories. He'd agreed to pass that information along to Booth, but he knew that the agent's reaction wouldn't be a good one. Feeling his tie squeeze his neck reminded him how quickly Booth's strong hands might increase that pressure. He gulped as he walked into Dr. Brennan's office to confront the man he feared and admired in equal proportions. Ready or not, it was time to face the music.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Temperance woke suddenly and was terrified to find that she had been unconscious again and was at least temporarily unable to remember what had happened. Aches in her body told her that she hadn't been moved gently. Her head throbbed. She was fairly certain that it was just a contusion, but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten it. As she moved her head from side to site, she felt the tape from the bandage that had been hastily applied pull against the skin on her supraorbital ridge. Had she fought? Had she fallen? What had happened? She struggled to remember.

She quickly ascertained that she was tied to a chair. When she strained to move, she felt the rope cutting into her arms. Glancing down, she realized that her blouse was missing. She was wearing only a bra and her slacks. After straining again, she realized that she was completely restrained. In an attempt to conserve energy, she stopped fighting and looked around the room to learn more about her current situation.

Only moments after she'd awakened, her captor walked closer to her. She flinched when he reached down and nudged her chin up toward him. She longed to break his creepy serial killer arm the way that she had Howard Epps'. She hoped she'd get the chance to do so. But she'd have to be patient and observant. Because that would prove difficult if she were drugged or knocked unconscious again for being uncooperative, she determined that she would play along in order to put her captor at ease. Perhaps he'd get lazy and make a helpful mistake.

It took all of her self control to sit still as her captor took out a permanent marker and drew an enormously oversized and quite misshapen heart on her bare skin in approximately the location where her heart was beating rapidly. Confused by this action, she looked at her kidnapper, imploring him with her eyes to explain.

"We're going to send a present to your partner, Dr. Brennan."

She fought the terror that seized her. Images of Booth receiving her heart in a box rammed her from all directions. Completely nauseated by the idea, she leaned over as far as she could away from him and vomited. Disgusted by his attentions, she tried to hide her aversion as he picked up a cloth and wiped her mouth for her.

"Now we can't have you looking anything but happy and healthy for this recording, can we? No, we want Agent Booth to see you whole and healthy. One last time. That way, he'll realize that he was too late, and that, if he had been better at his job, you'd have survived."

"There is no better agent. Booth will find me," she hissed, hoping to cause him to worry.

"We'll have that debate after we send him this recording. For now I want you to sit up straight and smile for the camera. I want you to read this message. Read it just the way it is. No changing the words, no sending signals, no begging your precious Agent Booth to find you. Just this statement. Read this for him. That's all you have to do. It's an important job considering the fact that it's the last thing you'll do for him."

As he spoke, Carson held up a piece of paper upon which he'd scrawled a rambling message about how inadequate Booth was and how he'd failed to save anyone he cared about. That her death was his fault. That he deserved to suffer and lose everything.

She couldn't stomach the idea of Booth hearing her voice those cruel statements. Not if it was the last time he'd hear her voice. As she finished reading the message, she devised a plan. It was far-fetched, but she had to try something to buy time and give Booth a better chance to get there.

"Your poorly worded missive will not anger Booth," she said in that perfectly clinical way of speaking she had mastered long ago.

"Excuse me?" the man asked, his temper set on edge.

"Your rambling, repetitive statement will not inspire additional anger or fear in my partner. I know him better than you. I suggest that you allow me to rewrite this statement to better accommodate your intention to cause him distress."

"You what? You expect me to believe that you will actually help me write something more likely to upset your partner?"

"I am excellent at compartmentalizing, Mr. Carson. If I am to be expected to help deliver this statement, I would prefer for it to sound more credible and convincing. Nobody hearing that from me would believe a word of it. I am too intelligent and too well-esteemed for my professionalism to be tarnished—even under these difficult circumstances. Besides, I know how to shove Booth's buttons. I'm very experienced in doing so."

She watched as the man pondered her words, realized her misuse of the phrase, and then stopped to consider her offer. His gaze indicated that he had shifted from shock and skepticism to willingness to allow her to do as she proposed. Seizing the opportunity, she pushed him harder, "Of course, I would be best able to assist you if you removed the restraints on my hands and arms so that I might type or pen the revised statement."

"Yeah… Like I'm going to do that. I'm not STUPID, Dr. Brennan. No way are you going to get free. Not yet. Not until you're incapable of moving. You just tell me what to write and I'll write it. Let's try that. Let's see if you really are as good at this as you think you'll be," he hissed.

"I will need approximately 20 minutes to revise and reword the statement. Please allow me some privacy during that timeframe," she stated apparently as easily as she would have offered direction to one of her interns.

"So you're really serious about this? Sure. Why the hell not? Actually, you can have more time than you asked for," Carson replied as he considered his options. "Postponing this recording will give me more time to do something else I didn't think I'd have time for. Let's just get you back into the cell, and I'll come back and get you later—when I'm ready."

With that, he walked behind her and dragged the chair to which she was tied across the room and into the metal cage in which she'd originally been placed. To her disappointment, he chained the back of the chair to the bars of the cage across the room from its other occupants. "No more funny business, Dr. Brennan. I can kill you sooner than planned if you push me."

He turned to leave and then walked back to her, pressing on her forearms as he leaned close to her to whisper, "If I don't like what you come up with, you're reading what I wrote, got it? Screw around with me, and I'll kill you on film. Bet your partner would love watching you bleed out. Mmmm… That's actually not a bad idea. I haven't filmed a murder yet. Got to keep trying new things, improving my approaches…."

Chuckling to himself, he left the cage and locked the door behind him, leaving his victims alone in the cage—one of them working her genius brain overtime to find a way to use this situation to her advantage.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Out with it, Sweets. What have you learned?" Booth barked impatiently as soon as the younger man entered the room and sat in a chair near Bones' desk.

"Well…," Lance began tentatively. He felt the sweat on his palms increase and felt as if his Adam's apple were suddenly the size of a softball as he tried to swallow.

What Booth did next to intentionally terrify him was quite successful. Lance reminded himself never to underestimate the skill of the agent before him.

"If you don't start talking, I'll have to get up," Booth said rather calmly as he continued to read the files spread out before him without even looking up at the younger man. He intentionally kept his voice low and its cadence even—too even, "If I get up, I'm walking around this desk and leaning on your chair. You've seen me interrogate uncooperative witnesses and suspects, Sweets. Don't make me treat you like one. This monster has my partner, and I don't have time for you to be acting like a scared kid. Do. Your. Job."

"Of course," Lance began, finding his shaky voice out of necessity. "Well, what you may not realize is that at the end of each of these sessions, Dr. Brennan…."

"Booth," Jenkins interrupted as he rushed to the door of the room. "We haven't been able to reach Carson's cousins—the ones who told us they'd call him and have him meet with us. We think he might be there—with them. They live way the heck in the middle of nowhere West Virginia. Would be the perfect place to hide out and hurt people. We've called for a chopper. Want to come with us to check it out? We can question the cousins—bring them in, if needed. You in, or you want us to handle it?"

Without hesitating, Booth leapt from his seat and followed Jenkins out the door. He yelled back over his shoulder at Sweets, We'll start right there when I get back. Get something to eat and start re-watching those videos of the interviews, Sweets. See what you might have missed. I still haven't seen much to go on. Maybe you'll see something we've all missed." Lance knew that it was ridiculous how motivated he felt to do just that after Booth's words of encouragement. He knew that Booth understood perfectly how to motivate those working for him and that he was probably just being used, but he didn't care. It mattered that Booth still had confidence in him. He'd try even harder not to let him down.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

When Carson returned to the room about 7 hours later after running his "errand," he found the anthropologist sitting quietly in her chair. The room's other occupants were silent and unmoving. He wondered if she'd roused them during his absence. He wasn't too worried. They didn't know much and could probably say even less. At least this time, he had made sure that she hadn't been able to do anything to help either of them. He'd been furious that first time when he'd entered the room and found her bandaging the woman's wounds with strips of her shirt—which she'd torn for that purpose. He'd learned his lesson. He'd been shocked by how much she'd been able to accomplish with only her own clothing in a very short time. She'd actually set the woman's broken leg with her belt, for God's sake. After that, he realized that he had to keep her locked up tightly or this woman would cause him trouble. He wasn't going to allow that to happen.

"What are all of the video monitors for?" Temperance asked when she heard him approach. "Do you have other such facilities in which you've stored your kidnapped victims?"

"I used to," he confessed. "But now I have only the three of you and you're all here. I won't need to visit those places anymore. But they helped me cast a wider net and leave more misleading clues for the FBI and police to follow." Mentally, he chastised himself for talking to her so freely. He fully intended to kill her so that she couldn't use any of this information against him, but at least temporarily, he was put at ease by the cool demeanor of this woman. Others he'd captured and tortured had been so terrified that they hadn't been fit for conversation. He'd never have admitted it, but he was lonely. His choice of avocation really didn't lend itself to quality time conversing with others…. So he was drawn as a moth to the flame to talk with this woman who remained composed and curious enough to pose interesting questions to him.

"So let's get down to business, Dr. Brennan," he sneered, dragging her chair out of the cage and over near where he'd set up the video camera for recording.

"First of all, I refuse to read the statement until you untie my hands," she demanded calmly.

"You are in no position to make demands," he roared, standing up and stepping closer to her.

She feigned detachment, "If you want my cooperation, that's my only requirement. I want to hold the paper and read from it. I will not help you otherwise."

Nonplussed, the man growled, "Why should I do something so risky? What does that do for me?"

"It makes you appear a kinder and gentler captor. It shows me in a more realistic position. It's the only way you get to deliver a video to Booth with me talking. You'll have to read the message if you don't."

"And you won't try any funny business if I do. You'll cooperate," he asked doubtfully.

Speaking honestly in that unique and believable way of her, she clarified, "You can retie my hands the moment the recording is complete. You have my word that I won't try to escape or injure you."

"Let's see what you've come up with. If I like your new version of the message, I'll consider it," he replied, surprising her greatly.

"Certainly," she replied before explaining to him how she wanted to change the statement they planned to record her delivering.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Fully armed and in body armor, Booth led the team entering the house of the Robertson family. On the chopper ride out, Jenkins had briefed him on their background. When the FBI team had originally canvassed the area trying to locate anyone from the Carson family, the Robertsons—more precisely, Isobel Robertson, a cousin, had explained that she had a number for reaching her cousin in emergencies and that she'd call him and put him in touch with them. She'd been unable to provide much additional information about her cousin or his father. She hadn't seen anyone from that part of the family in years.

Ms. Robertson had called back later to inform them that her cousin would meet with them. She relayed details about the meeting and had gone on to express her sincere interest in seeing her cousin once he was finished talking with them. But although she'd initially been very helpful, they'd had trouble reaching her since.

The team entered the Robertson family's small, unlit home and quickly found the most horrifying of clues. Blood spattered on the walls and the ceiling and pooled on the floor confirmed their suspicions. Marcus Carson was The Taker. Booth felt nauseated as he examined the evidence confirming that the man had slit the throats of his own family members. Such depraved, senseless violence typically made him glad he was a cop. But in that moment, the fact that this monster had his partner made him feel more like a terrified kid than a skilled member of law enforcement.

The look on Jenkins' face told Booth that what lie in the next room was even more gruesome. Without hesitation, he followed him around the corner. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the message that had been left for him.

"Too late. Your partner is dead" was smeared on the wall of the room in blood. And on the table beneath the ominous message was a vice draped in the heart-shaped pendant his partner had been wearing when she'd been seen last.


	30. Chapter 30

**_[A/N: I swear I'm not trying to drag this out. Just too darned busy!_**

**_Those of you who've endured the delays and suffered through this rambling story have my gratitude! There's not too much story left here, but I hope that what's to come won't disappoint. Let me know what you think!_**

**_P.S. If you've read this far, you know I own nothing related to Bones, right?]_**

Chapter 30: The Reaction to the Response

Nobody watching the team return from its mission had the heart to inquire about the details of what Booth and the other agents had seen. It was completely obvious to anyone who saw Booth that the news had not been good. Plus, they knew that he'd give them the facts they needed when the time was right. Realizing that their stares appeared to be prying, Cam and the squints scattered to work on examining evidence. Not even noticing, the focused special agent stalked back into his partner's office and demanded that Sweets tell him what his partner had been doing at the end of the interviews.

Sweets had been tempted to ask him how he was holding up but thought better of it. Instead, he decided to comply with Booth's wishes. "I wasn't aware of the specifics," the younger man began in an attempt to deflect some of the blame, "but I have since learned that Dr. Brennan spent significant time alone with each of the victims. During those times, she was known to have passed envelopes to each of them. The exact content of those envelopes is unknown at this time. Nobody at the bureau knew what was in them."

"I didn't think about it much at the time, but I witnessed more than one of the people we interviewed shaking her hand and thanking her after those meetings. One woman even hugged her tightly. Given Dr. Brennan's social awkwardness," Sweets continued despite the glare Booth shot at him for the unwelcome jab at his partner, "I can only imagine that the contents of those envelopes engendered unfettered emotional reactions. Agent Booth, I'm sorry I didn't realize that she might be putting herself at risk with those meetings. But it now appears that whatever happened in those meetings led to her kidnapping."

Surprised by Booth's continued calm silence, Sweets continued, "I've contacted the woman who hugged her and asked her to send me a copy of everything in the envelope. She agreed to find a way to fax the information to us as quickly as possible."

"Good, Sweets. Let me know when the file comes in. In the meantime, I want you reviewing the file for Leonard Carson."

"Why the focus on the elder Carson? He's in prison. Shouldn't we be focused on locating his son?"

"His son, Marcus Carson, is The Taker."

"How? What?"

"We don't have proof, but we'll find it. After seeing the way his cousin and her family were butchered, my gut is telling me Carson's our man. I'm flying out to interview his lunatic father tonight. We need all eyes on that file so that I can pry some information from him about his son."

"I'll get right on it," Sweets said as he rose and started to leave. "But I get the sense that you have other information it would be important for me to know about. What happened out there today?"

"That weasel is playing with us. He had been out there—not long before we got to the house. The techs are still working but it looks as if he killed his cousin a few days ago. But the blood smeared on the wall was fresh—he had just left it there today. Either he'd been hiding there the whole time or he went back just to leave us a message. Either way, he's feeling cocky and convinced that we can't catch him."

"Maybe that will work to our advantage. Maybe he'll slip up."

Booth sighed more loudly than he realized, "Yeah. Maybe. But we need to work fast. We have to find something soon."

"What was it?" Sweets asked.

When Booth looked up at him for clarification, the psychologist spelled the question out for him, "What message did he leave?"

"He said that I was too late," Booth said quietly. Then he paused to make sure that he was composed enough to finish explaining.

"Too late for what?" Sweets prompted with his facial expression alone.

Booth replied but he couldn't look at the younger man when he did so. Even indirectly, the psychologist was chilled by the cold dark flash in the agent's eyes, "He said that… that Bones was dead."

After gulping hard, Lance tried to reassure him. He hoped he was convincing because he wasn't sure his reassurance was warranted given the dire warning, "She's not. You have to..."

"I don't need shrinking right now, Sweets. I need to find Bones."

"We will. We'll find her," Lance offered before slipping out of the room to leave Booth alone with his thoughts.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

The more Lance read about Leonard Carson, the more grateful he was that Booth had put him behind bars years ago. The file was a gruesome collection of nightmarish photos of bodies dismembered, mutilated, and torn. At first Sweets hadn't been convinced that any crimes so long ago could have spurred Marcus Carson to become a killer as recently as a few years ago. But the more he read of the horrors of the man's father and his atrocious and overly violent crimes, the more convinced he became that exposure to such a monster at any age—could have caused extreme emotional damage.

Lance typed up his list of issues and questions and emailed it to Booth along with an offer to accompany him to the prison. Booth's reply was grateful and brief. Lance suspected that the agent had declined his help in order to spare "the 12 year old" in him. That part of him was grateful not to have to face the demon locked deep within the prison.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

U.S. Penitentiary, Hazelton, West Virginia

Booth sat down at the large wooden table and took his time getting settled. Considering several approaches, he opted to sit leaning back in his chair.

He wasn't going to connect. He wasn't going to let this jerk bait him.

He was going to find out what this man knew. He was going to get what he came for.

As he sat there, Booth sensed that Caroline Julian was staying quiet to give him time to prepare. Still, her silence was so atypical as to be unnerving. He considered making a smart ass comment to rile her up, but decided against it as the door opened.

Booth feigned interest in the folder before him and flipped through the pages it contained as if those pages were his only possible concern. He waited until the guards brought Carson in and cuffed him to the chair across from him. He didn't nod to the guards or speak at all—he'd thank the men later for their help. Refusing to acknowledge the monster that'd brought all of this on, Booth continued to flip through the file, even stopping to make notes from time to time.

He felt Caroline restrain herself in an attempt to remain quiet. He could tell by the mannerisms of the man sitting across from him that Carson could feel the tension in the room. Booth was determined that he'd wait him out. He sensed it wouldn't take long. Carson has always been a talker, and Booth was determined to play that against him.

As he'd anticipated, Carson was the first to initiate a conversation a few minutes later. "You here to admit that you railroaded me and that I'm innocent? Sure would help my appeal..."

"Arresting you was a career highlight. I'm standing behind it," Booth said calmly.

"Well, I take it you're not just here to shoot the breeze..."

Booth thought for a long moment about how much he really did want to shoot the man sitting too comfortably across from him, "When is the last time you saw him?" Booth asked, glaring daggers at the man as he scrutinized him from across the table.

"Who? My lawyer? Lousy, lazy public defender's still annoyed that they haven't fried me yet. I quit calling him years ago."

"Not your lawyer. Your kid. You remember him—the one who had to help you bury the bodies? The one who cleaned up after you butchered them—the women and the kids his age? Marcus…. When's the last time you saw him?"

Carson sneered, "That's none of big brother's business. 'Cept I know for a fact that you can get the visitor logs. Marcus doesn't visit often. Doesn't call much either."

"But you were a model parent, Leonard. Why wouldn't Marcus want to visit you?" Booth asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"He had food and a bed, a roof over his head. That brat had nothing to complain about."

"So you never hurt him or mistreated him?" Booth asked, reminding himself that he didn't want to get emotional during this conversation. He was having a harder and harder time faking detachment.

"Never beat him the way my old man whooped me, if that's what you're asking," Carson replied.

"Nothing? No torture? Why would you spare your kid when you tortured dozens of others?" Caroline finally asked when she noticed that Booth wasn't continuing the conversation.

"Eh... Only had to discipline my kid once or twice. He was pretty good about listening."

"Discipline? Define discipline," Booth insisted.

"Locked him in the cell-with or without a body or two-for a few days. Put his hand in a vise whenever he was too slow making cuffs or tools for me to use. That sort of thing. Otherwise, a backhand or two or a good punch to the gut typically kept him in line."

"It's pretty damned nice of you to share so much information with us, Leonard," Booth said, his rage barely contained.

"Well, they can't reconvict me for crimes and you have no new evidence. The statute of limitations on child abuse expired a long time ago. I'm not telling you anything that will do me any damage."

"Like I said, pretty nice of you to cooperate. The vise thing really helps. Makes lots of things make sense. But what I need you to tell me now is where I can find your son."

"Told you earlier, G-man. Haven't seen the kid in ages."

Carson watched the agent grind his teeth for a moment. The next thing he knew, the chair he was sitting in had been slammed back against the wall, and the man's forearm was cutting off his air supply.

So much for feigning detachment. Besides, roughing this creep up felt way too damned good.

"You're gonna tell me where that lowlife son of yours is, or I'm gonna save the taxpayers the trouble of hooking you up to Old Sparky."

Carson struggled to breathe. Then he shook his head slightly. Surprisingly, the agent backed off enough to allow him to cough and gasp for air.

"Don't know," Carson rasped.

"See, I figure you do," Booth insisted, increasing the pressure on the man's throat again. "You're gonna give me a list of the places you never told us about where you killed people. You're gonna list all the places where your family owned property, had friends, went camping. You're helping me find your son so that he can join you in here... so that the reunion won't have to wait until the Hellfire is making you dance."

With that, Booth released his grip on the man and slammed his chair hard back against the wall.

"Marcus was always a coward. He wasn't brave enough to join in or to do anything dangerous. What the hell do you want with him?"

"It appears that junior decided to follow in your footsteps, Leonard," Booth said with a sneer. Then, after taking a moment to compose himself, he moved back around the table and sat down, appearing to regain his composure completely. "In fact, I'd say old Marcus has done a bang-up job of making you look like an amateur, Leonard. Yeah... he's the one they'll write stories about. He's the one they'll remember. You'll just be a tiny footnote for being the schmuck who donated the sperm to make him."

Carson was clearly unnerved by this statement. "You're kidding right? That kid couldn't... wouldn't... You're trying to trick me."

"At least seven murders, Leonard. Perfectly executed and masterfully displayed. Cuts their hearts out and attaches them to the next body with a vise. He's just as brutal as you were, but he presents his victims with a hell of a lot more flair. He's an artist. You're just a locked up old hack."

"You're lying!" Carson screamed. Booth turned the file around and spread the photos out on the table. "Tell me where he's hiding, Leonard. Then I'll bring him in and stop him before he makes you look like a boy scout."

The man sat staring at the photos in disbelief.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Five hours later...

Booth trudged back to his partner's office. He dumped his bags and left to shower in the decontamination unit. He slipped on a new set of clothes and replaced his armored vest, weapons and other equipment. He sent a quick message to the team letting them know that they'd be leaving in 15 minutes for the next site on the list.

They'd flown straight to Virginia to the farm a stone's throw from the one where Fallon and Agent Norman had been held. Apparently Carson's mother had inherited the farm from a rich uncle. The paperwork had been forged to include false names. The farm was leased to a lazy man who only managed part of it, so it had been easy for Carson to hide out undetected. He'd snuck through the bordering woods to get to the building where he'd terrorized Fallon and Norman.

Booth sighed. Next they were flying to an old fishing cabin in West Virginia where the Carsons had vacationed when Marcus was a kid. Booth sensed that Leonard had been honest with him but that he'd buried a real possible location within a list of random goosehunts. Still, they'd work every lead. This list was all they had that might connect them with Carson and help him find Bones.

"Anything?" Angela asked as she stepped into the doorway.

Booth shook his head sadly.

She walked closer and surprised him by stepping into his personal space and putting her arms around him. For a brief moment, Booth allowed himself to relax into her embrace. Angela was Bones' best friend. Having her hold him was the closest he could get to actually holding his partner. It was all he had in that moment. He choked back the sob he was determined to bury.

"Go find her," Angela said as she released him and took a step back.

He nodded, swallowed hard, and grabbed his things.

Angela watched as the exhausted man strode purposefully from his partner's office. Seeing Booth so worried made her terrified. She knew he'd die trying to find his partner, her best friend, but she was starting to fear that they wouldn't get there in time. She closed her eyes and hoped against hope that they were headed to the right place.

When she pulled herself back together and opened her eyes, she noticed that Booth was standing out on the walkway stock still. She watched as Cam approached him. Something about the way his back was ramrod straight was terrifying instead of sexy. Angela made her way toward them, almost afraid to find out what had literally stopped Booth in his tracks.

She shot Cam a look that demanded to know what the hell was going on.

Booth turned to face her, his own countenance a much paler shade as he made eye contact with her.

"It's a text with an attached video file," he said, his voice betraying his own terror.

She looked at him quizzically, searching his face and Cam's for an answer.

"It's from Bones," he said in a hoarse whisper. Trembling, the women circled around him as he hit the key to open the message.


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 31: The Miss in the Mission

Booth sat at his partner's desk and stared intently at the laptop before him. The technical team had uploaded the video and every member of the team had watched and re-watched it until each of them had it memorized. Yet, nobody could decipher the hidden message or decode the clues they all knew the messenger had sent to them.

Nearly mad with worry and feeling the excruciating pressure of knowing that time was against them, Booth had paced and muttered and ranted and smacked a wall hard with his fist in his frustration. He was her partner. He should have understood the message. He should have been able to find the clues. But he had nothing.

He'd sent a team out to search the fishing cabin, barely speaking to them except to tell them to turn over every stone. He felt as if his eyes were going to explode. They were dry and scratchy and ached like hell. Yet he kept playing and replaying the video and he yelled at anyone who tried to interrupt him. He wasn't stopping to listen to anyone who couldn't swear that they'd figured out Bones' hidden message to them. He even considered shooting anyone who tried to make him stop.

Booth knew he was starting to sound crazy as he talked back to his partner's image on the screen. He cursed at her and told her to be clear and make it easy for him to understand. He begged her to tell him what the hell she'd meant to say. He nagged and complained as if she were right there in the room there with him. God, how he wished that were possible.

Hours had passed, but he refused to stop watching. He would stare at the recording until he figured it out. This was a message from Bones. It had to mean something besides the obvious. Bones was too smart not to have sent him some clue or message. He just wished he was smart enough to understand what it was.

Watching now was frustrating. Originally, it had been devastating. He'd barely survived the first viewing. The first time he'd seen it, he'd almost fallen apart. Almost. Sheer determination and will to find her were the only reasons he hadn't. Bones had looked so brave and spoken so calmly about such tender memories that it had been extraordinarily painful to watch knowing the true peril she was facing and fearing that it might be the last memory he had of her. It had taken hours of monotonous, repetitive viewing for the impact of the video on him to diminish slightly, but he was still tied up in knots.

Booth closed his eyes as he continued to listen to his partner's voice as she spoke to him so calmly and clearly. As much as he wanted to believe that she'd left him some clue, he tried to tell himself that it was plausible that she'd really just sent him a message to ease his pain and to help him cope with her loss. Bones had talked about so many things—so many intimate memories that didn't sound private or important to most people who heard her talking. She talked at length about seemingly innocuous activities and events and details that only he realized meant so much more. She'd asked him to tell the rest of her team that she would miss them and that she loved and respected them. She thanked him for being her partner, her friend, her family. She told him that he was a good man, a terrific father, and a wonderful friend.

He'd almost broken down when she'd asked him to visit her grave if she didn't make it. Pointing back to that old, intimate conversation during which she'd promised him she'd do so for him, she reassured him that viewing himself from her vantage point would make him feel better. She assured him that no one had more esteem for him than she did. She had said those words with a clarity and a sincerity that had been absolutely gut-wrenching for him to view.

As calm as Bones had been, there had been times when her voice had cracked and she had looked directly into the camera. Those times had nearly ripped him apart. She hadn't said anything specific about her feelings, but he read through her words and understood her meaning. The emotion she conveyed was crushing. He was torn between wishing she'd said more and being grateful that he hadn't had to endure hearing it.

At just that moment, he watched the worst of the video clip roll by again. Dammit! Bones had actually said goodbye to him. There was no way in hell he could just accept that. It killed him to realize that she might have been forced to decide to do just that.

Again overwhelmed by his intense frustration, Booth jumped up and rushed to Angela's office. On the way, both Jenkins and Sweets managed to stop him momentarily so that they could fill him in on details about people they'd interviewed about Carson who had explained some of the reasons why he had started the vendetta against Booth. Apparently when Booth had rescued the kid from his father, he'd gone out of his way to place him with a local Catholic church. Sadly, the priest who had taken Marcus in had suffered from his own demons and had abused the boy both physically and in other, much more disturbing ways. Of course, Booth hadn't known about any of this, and he'd never once gotten a call from the kid. Anyone who knew the man knew he'd have taken the priest apart limb by limb had he known what he'd done—if only he'd known. Yet, it made sense that the boy he'd promised he'd find a safe place for blamed him when it turned out that fate had dealt him another unexpected cruel blow.

News such as this would have been devastating to Booth on any other day. But given the circumstances, all he could do was file the information away to feel guilty about some other time. He had to find Bones.

Without knocking, Booth rushed in and sat down in the chair across from where Angela was talking to Hodgins. Reading the man adeptly, Jack took Booth's arrival as his cue to leave. Uncertain what to say, Angela just looked at Booth when Jack left, dreading the question she knew he'd ask next.

"Angela, this is the least technical, least scientific, least anthropological conversation Bones has ever had. There's nothing here—just her goodbye to all of us. This message is simple and direct. It's personal and conversational. It has to be meant for you or for me. Have you seen or heard anything that will help? Did she slip in the names of obscure artists or paintings? Anything? Anything we can go on?"

Hating to give him more bad news, Angela shook her head sadly, "I can't find anything. It's so frustrating. She's just got to show off that she's such a flipping genius. Why couldn't she spell it out simply? Why couldn't she make it easy for us? It's just too complex or cryptic. Even Jack can't figure out what signals she was sending. He's taking a copy to Zach. Maybe he'll notice something we haven't. Sweets can't figure anything out. Jeffersonian linguists and FBI code experts haven't deciphered any pattern or code hidden in her words. Maybe she just wanted to talk to you, Booth. She has to be terrified, but I know that she'd want to tell you goodbye."

"You know I can't accept that. I have to… We have to find her."

"I know. But I'm not sure this message will help. Maybe the technical team will find something that might help them discover her location. I've analyzed the background frequencies in the video, but found nothing. I asked Fred to use the bureau's equipment, too. We're all trying, Booth. If there's anything there, we'll find it."

"I know. Thanks, Ang," Booth said, dropping his head into his hands. He sat there for a long time replaying the video in his mind and willing his brain to see what he'd missed. He hated the sense of dread hanging over him. He didn't want to give up, but he was running out of reasons to hope.

While he sat there, Angela restarted the video again. She knew that trying was the only thing keeping all of them going. She hoped that simple act might reassure the man on the verge of crumbling before her. She was right.

Even as futile as watching seemed, Booth couldn't stop himself from looking up at his partner's bruised but still gorgeous face. Angela watched as the man before her stared helplessly at the image before him. More so than ever before, his expression was transparent. His tired face was beautiful and troubled—he looked like a masterful painting or a powerful sculpture of a god or someone regal. He was a man in love on the verge of losing the woman he so desperately needed. He was a man who'd have regrets which would be overpowering—regrets about all the wasted years and missed opportunities. He was a man who would follow any lead to the ends of the earth to save her but who had none. He was a man in unspeakable pain.

Watching Booth stare adoringly yet desperately at the ghost-like image of his partner on the screen was devastating. Angela realized more clearly how debilitating this situation would be for him—for all of them-if they didn't pull off a miracle and find her best friend.

She rose, hoping to give Booth a few private moments alone with the projection-sized image of Brennan. She walked by and paused long enough to place a supportive hand upon his forearm to reassure him that he wasn't alone despite how lonely he was feeling in that moment. She took a deeper breath and moved to leave the room.

She was shocked when Booth reached over and grabbed her hand.

"Oh my God," he said as he stared at the screen like a madman. "That's it!" he exclaimed, standing up and gesturing wildly with his hand. "Look…. She left us a code! We found it. Grab some paper. I'll get you started. Where's that damned remote control? We've got it, Ang!"

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth rushed back into Angela's office to find her still writing furiously. She glanced up at him quickly and then checked her notes.

"Send me a message with everything in it. If you find something else important, call me," he said as he turned to leave without waiting for a response.

Sitting with Angela earlier, Booth had started decoding the message that his partner had left for them. She'd tapped her index finger subtly on the bottom of the paper she'd been holding whenever she used a word they need to focus upon. Ever thorough and brilliant, in case they'd missed that movement or if the kidnapper had cut off that part of the picture, she'd simultaneously glanced down when saying each of those words. Her movements were so subtle and natural that everyone had initially missed them; however, now that the code was apparent, each movement screamed loudly that she was providing them the precise information they'd needed.

Brennan's seemingly inane reference to wishing she'd been with Booth riding in his car included a tap on "car," and her next statement involved a reference to Parker, Booth's "son." Carson. She'd told them the identity of her kidnapper within two sentences. She'd made other emotionally charged statements that had referenced their sitting "across from" one another at the diner and her going with Booth to "confession." By the time the team gathered and prepared to head out, Angela had continued decoding enough information to discern that the kidnapper had cameras posted and that her best friend was being held along with two other captives who needed urgent medical attention.

It hadn't taken Booth and Angela long to read between the clues and figure out that Bones might be being held near the church where Booth went for confession. He'd immediately leapt up and had the team prepare to leave for that location.

While Booth had been briefing his superiors and checking in with Angela, the team of agents working with him had developed a strategy. They firmed up plans to canvass the church and find out if they'd be able to see what might be going on nearby. They packed frequency jamming equipment to block any transmissions by cameras or speakers from any location found to hold suspicious equipment. They also contacted security teams in the surrounding buildings to inform them that they might need access to some of their space or that they might end up needing to search entire facilities. Plans at the ready, they followed their determined leader into the van to move across town.

On the ride over, Jenkins moved over next to Booth so that he could fill him in on the parts of their plan he would not like. "Booth, we've decided… I mean, the only logical way to pull this off is…."

"Spit it out, Jenkins. Tell me what's going to make me want to knock you down."

"We'll search the church and surrounding buildings for surveillance equipment. Then we'll figure out where that equipment is sending its signals."

"Standard procedure so far; get to the point," Booth frowned.

"Once we identify the building and hone in on where they might be, we'll set up one or more sites across the street and have snipers on standby to support the team that's going in for the extraction."

"And you want me across the street with my rifle," Booth replied without flinching.

"Yeah… Yes, sir," Jenkins replied.

Booth thought long and hard about what his team was proposing. The large part of him wanted to overrule them in a very loud and physical way. But the soldier in him, the professional agent understood the reason for this particular strategy. He was too close. He might come unglued. He might melt down and cause more problems than he helped solve. He understood intellectually. They were being logical—for God's sake. Bones would have concurred. He almost chuckled at the irony.

Could he sit and wait across the street and let others move in and try to find his partner? Could he stand the wait and the worry and the inaction that would require? The man in him wasn't so sure. But the agent in him was willing to try.

"If anything goes wrong and I find out that my being in there would have made a difference, I will shoot you at close range. Do you understand?" Booth said, making his threat to the man crystal clear.

"Yes, sir," Jenkins assured him. The man was visibly calmer now. He'd expected Booth to fight him on this. He was relieved that he hadn't.

"This is family and partnership, Jenkins. Treat this like we're saving your mom or your kid, you understand?"

"Highest priority, utmost caution, no room for errors of any kind, Booth. We've got your back on this one."

Booth nodded and swallowed hard. The ride across town suddenly seemed hours long instead of minutes.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth waited impatiently as the techs who were dressed as three different cleaning and maintenance crews searched the area reading the data on their equipment and looking for video or audio feeds. After several false alarms chasing down what ended up being building security cameras, they finally fixed on a signal that appeared to be a potential lead.

Fifteen minutes later, they had jammed the transmissions and located two cameras hidden within dark corners of the church. Once the cameras were located, the agents traced their transmissions to the middle floors of the apartment building directly across the street. Tactical teams of agents dispersed to evacuate floors, hone in on the precise location, set up sniper stations, and gear up to rescue the hostages.

Booth checked in with every team to ensure their preparation was complete and that everything had been double checked. Having done all that he could do, he steeled himself for withdrawing to the sniper station across the street to watch everything unfold. He felt jittery in his own skin. His gut was telling him that he needed to be there; that he should be the front man on the entry squad. Waging an internal war with himself, he turned to follow Jenkins to the designated room. But as he did, he came face to face with Brian Rackley, the former head of the investigation. Like dominant male wolves facing off to determine the pack's alpha, the men stood there staring at one another without moving or speaking. Then, taking a step back and deferring to Booth completely, Rackley spoke sincerely. "I'll go in first, Booth. I'll be your eyes and ears. I owe you that much. We'll find her. We'll get this guy. You watch our backside and make sure the scene is safe. We've got this."

Gritting his teeth, Booth nodded and turned away. Nobody spoke until the special agent was out of the building and making his way to his station. The moment Booth was gone, Jenkins and Rackley moved to make final preparations for the rescue mission. The atmosphere was highly charged. Each of them was trying to psych himself up to perform at his best.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Brennan sensed that time was running short. Nearly an hour ago, something had gone wrong with the bank of monitors her captor was viewing, and he'd blown a fuse. Paranoid and convinced that he might be discovered, he'd obviously expedited his plans for killing her. She'd sat, whispering occasionally to the other people in the cell to encourage them to hold on. She'd meditated and practiced complicated mental exercises in order to block out the sounds coming from the room next door. It hadn't taken her long to realize that her captor was crafting a new vise—likely one meant to hold her heart or to fasten someone else's to her dead body. She tamped down her terror and tried to stay calm.

Her fear had risen to the surface again when she'd been dragged from the room again and drugged. He'd given her something to dull her senses and make her very groggy—not to put her out entirely. She'd snapped back to full awareness when he'd applied a hard slap to the side of her face. She strained, realizing that she was now prone on a steel table and shackled tightly to it. Her stomach rolled as she watched the man stand the vise on the table so that it would be in her peripheral vision. She lie there trying to think of something—anything to say to cause this man to delay his plans. The look on his face told her that he wasn't going to listen.

After what seemed like hours but had only been about half an hour, her captor stopped his preparations and looked down at her with a sneer. He raised an enormous knife and turned it so that the light from the room flashed wildly around the room for her benefit.

"Without detailed testing, I can only postulate that the weapon you're holding matches the kerf marks we found on the other victims," she said with as little emotion as possible.

"Well, you won't have time for such testing, Dr. Brennan. The time has come for me to execute my plan, and my plan involves your untimely death. I have to leave your heart as a gift for your partner. It's time to show him what he's lost."

She stared at him as bravely as possible under the circumstances. She wished that Booth would find her and suddenly found comfort in the fact that she could just relax and let the images of her time with her partner flash through her memory. Just remembering those times calmed her.

Carson was incensed. The woman was lying there almost smiling. She should be terrified and begging for her life. He had to do something to rile her up and have her screaming as he killed her. That was the part he most enjoyed. Grinning with a malice that was chilling, he leaned close to her ear and whispered, "Any message you'd like for me to convey to your partner after you're dead?"

Without hesitation, she replied, "Tell him I never stopped believing in him. Tell him you didn't frighten me one bit!" As she whispered that last part, she cracked her head into his, sending him howling across the room in agony. She wasn't going to whine or cry. She was fighting until the very bitter end.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Booth's sniper training hadn't prepared him for this. He lie there on the table, his weapon trained on the windows they'd told him were for the rooms where Bones was being held. He used infrared sensors to watch the movement of someone—probably Carson—through the apartment. His blood pressure rose as he realized that a body—possibly Bones—lie still on a table. He wished he could see more than just the blurry images of the heat emanating from their bodies.

He listened in his earpiece to the directions from his spotter and to the communications from the teams working to free his partner. He lay stock still and tense. It was all he could do not to shoot the man on sight.

Booth listened as the teams explained that they were moving into position. But his concentration was broken when he saw movement in the apartment. He watched—frozen—as the person on the table raised her head or some other body part quickly and made obvious contact with the person walking around. _God, Bones…. What did you do?_

He reported what he'd seen to Jenkins and Rackley. They begged him to hold off until they were ready. Then they told the teams to hurry that they needed to move fast.

Booth checked off the items on his mental sniper's checklist as he listened to the messages bouncing around on the line. He tried to wait for the "ready," but that wait ended when he watched the man rush back to the table with his arm raised high above his head. Firing without even realizing he'd done it, Booth pulled the trigger and shot a nearly silent bullet through the forearm of the attacker. Through his scope, he saw that contact had been made, but it was clear that the person had not gone down. As soon as the person moving neared the table again, Booth fired again, this time making a more critical hit. He did not wait for a third opportunity. He no longer could stand being so far away from what was happening. His gun fell to the table with a crash, and he didn't wait to hear his spotter give the order for everyone to move in.

"Target hit in the arm, possibly the opposite shoulder. Get the hell in there now!" Masters yelled into his earpiece.

Booth ripped out his earpiece and threw it onto the floor as he raced from the room and down the stairwell. He crossed the street without looking and took the stairs in the other building two at a time.

By the time he arrived at the apartment, the door was wide open. Without pausing to retrieve a gun or to consider his personal safety, he rushed into the room and scanned it thoroughly.

What he saw nearly brought him to his knees.

_[A/N: Evil, I know, but I'm well into writing the next chapter and the wait won't be too long!]_


	32. Chapter 32

_[A/N: Believe it or not, we're at the end of this story. Have to thank all of you for reading here—despite lengthy delays and cliffy chapter endings. Writing this story has been different from others. The journey was more of a challenge than I anticipated, and I'm really relieved to have fought through the writers' block to finish it. Overall, I'm happy with it and hope that it's entertained you a bit. _

_I'd be remiss if I didn't point out that I was struggling with parts of this chapter not playing out as smoothly as I'd imagined. But then I read a one shot by LJLanham. A theme from that story was presented so well and resonated so deeply that I mirrored some of that perspective here. I edited that part of the story and now post it as a tribute to LJLanham's writing genius. Sure made a big difference here. _

_Thank you all for reading and for reviewing. I'm in debt to you all for the time and thought you've invested here. This one's for JenLovesBones because of her general awesomeness!]_

Chapter 32: The Truth in the Tempest

She was alive.

She was breathing.

She wasn't bleeding.

She was alive.

She was sitting up.

Bones was right before him.

Rackley had cut the chains and helped Bones into a sitting position. She was sitting on the edge of the table while one of the techs was sawing through the cuffs that still bound her wrists. When Booth entered the room, everyone paused to look at him. Given the enormity of the situation, the bureau staff quickly looked back toward their tasks, but Temperance's eyes never strayed from those of her partner.

Her shackles removed, the men slipped away to help the rest of the team. Finally able to move again, Booth strode across the room and folded her into the biggest, most tender hug he could manage. He clung to her, taking care not to injure her but squeezing her tightly to him nonetheless.

When he finally let go and took a step backward, he surprised his partner by moving back toward her and scooping her up into his arms. He moved across the room and sat down on a sofa, holding her on his lap. Still not speaking, he began examining her more closely. As if he were the anatomy expert instead of her, he noted the fresh bruises on her face, the poorly bandaged wound that he'd seen on the video. His fingertips grazing over her flesh carefully, he scrutinized every inch of her as he searched for any signs that she was wounded or needed critical care.

"Booth, I'm fine," she reassured him, but he would not rest until he'd seen evidence to that effect for himself. Never mind that this was all kinds of inappropriate because agents and technicians were roaming the room around them. Bones was there. She was okay. They'd made it to her in time. Still, he had to make sure she was really all right.

"Bones, God…. Bones," he finally mumbled as he realized that she was actually fine, again clutching her tightly to him.

"It's okay. You found me," she whispered as she rested her forehead against his. "I knew you would. I never gave up on you," she said, failing in an attempt to smile at him.

"I thought we'd lost you. I thought I was too late. I was afraid…," he began, but she cut him off with a fingertip placed across his lips.

"You got here, Booth. It's okay. Please calm down. I'm fine."

"Okay," he whispered, tears filling his eyes for a moment.

He saw a flash of something unrecognizable in her expression. Then, she took one of his hands and held it for a moment. Then, swallowing dramatically, she looked up into his eyes and spoke to him softly.

"I'm fine, Booth. But you… you need to go into the other room and help with the other hostages."

"No. I'm staying with you, Bones."

"Really, Booth. I insist. Just go in there. I'm fine. Nothing is going to happen to me. But I'm asking you to go in there. Do it for me."

Frowning, he looked at her. He was half afraid that he'd overstepped and she was pushing him away. But the expression on her face was merely encouraging and sincere. And, as always, he found it impossible to deny her what she wanted.

"I'll go in there for a few minutes, Bones. Just because you asked me to. But then I'm coming back in here and taking you to the hospital to get you checked out."

When she started to speak, he raised a hand and stopped her. "You're not arguing your way out of this one, Bones. I'll be back in two minutes. Stay right here."

"Thank you for getting here. Thank you for saving my life," she said earnestly, placing a hand alongside his cheek for a brief moment before nudging him into the adjoining room.

She watched as Booth passed a screaming Carson without noticing him at all. Booth seemed not to hear the man moaning about how he'd abandoned him with a monster when he was a child and how he'd not answered the phone when Carson had called him for help. From the increase in the decibel level and the acceleration of the man's raving words, it was clear that Booth's ignoring the murderer was driving the man crazy. That's all he had wanted from Booth through this ordeal—for him to notice his pain and acknowledge his part in it. Unfortunately for him, the special agent had other more pressing matters on his mind now that the kidnapper had been arrested.

Once he entered the room, Booth clearly understood why Bones had sent him over. Fallon lie there barely alive and hardly breathing. Rushing the medics along, he stood there, holding her hand and promising her that they'd get her to the hospital. He walked out alongside the gurney, his eyes searching for his partner the moment he re-entered the room where she'd been moments before. Confused, he scanned the room again.

Bones was nowhere to be found.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

As she unlocked the door to her apartment, Agent Jenkins attempted to follow her into the room. "I'm fine, Agent Jenkins. You should return to the crime scene and help ensure that the wounded are cared for and that the evidence isn't compromised."

"No, ma'am," Jenkins insisted politely. "I assured Booth that you'd be safe, and I intend to ensure that's the case."

"I'm a private citizen, and I am in no imminent danger. The bureau will cancel my security detail. You should leave now."

"I'll just wait here outside," he insisted as she closed the door in his face.

Temperance closed the door and turned to press her back against it. She allowed herself a moment to mourn before recommitting herself to her planned course of action.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Realizing that his ridiculously stubborn partner had left against his wishes, Booth rode in the ambulance with Fallon and escorted her into the hospital. He watched as the doctors took her vitals and listened to reports from the EMTs. It was clear from the looks on their faces that it didn't look good.

He stayed with her until they rolled her into surgery. Then he dialed Lydia and told her to get on the next plane down.

The next call he made was to his partner. He paced when she didn't answer. He left message after message. Finally realizing that she had probably turned her phone off, he stopped leaving messages. _Fine, he'd give her space for a little while. But not for long._

He dialed Rackley for an update on the processing of Carson. He called Caroline to check in on the status of the evidence and the crime scene. He thought about calling Bones again but didn't. He hoped that she was really okay and that she'd talk to him later that night when he went to her apartment. He resolved to go there after he made sure that Fallon had come through her surgery okay.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"I appreciate the ride, but I don't need supervision," Temperance reminded Agent Jenkins.

"Dr. Brennan, your phone has been buzzing nonstop for half an hour. I know it's Booth calling you because he keeps calling me, too. You have to talk to him."

"I do not have to do any such thing," she snapped.

"Begging your pardon, Dr. Brennan, but the man nearly lost his sanity trying to find you. You're heading to the airport the minute he stepped away… He's gonna blow a fuse."

She paused and considered Booth's reaction to her unexpected departure. 'Blowing a fuse' was likely an apt description for his response. He was overprotective. Too protective for someone who could only be her friend and partner. "I'll put in a good word for you. Explain it wasn't for lack of effort on your part," she said quietly.

"I don't understand it, Dr. Brennan. I mean, your private life is personal and private and all, but I've seen the way you and Booth work together and the friendship you've shared. You know he's been worried sick. I don't understand your decision to leave right away. Can't you stay until tomorrow and talk to him, reassure him that you're fine?"

"I'll send him a message from Miami," she said quietly.

"Excuse me for saying so, but you're a brave, intelligent woman," Jenkins said as he steered the car onto the exit leading to Reagan National. She looked at him, puzzling over his stating the obvious when he clearly disapproved of her actions. He spoke as soon as she made eye contact, "What you're doing now… it's the opposite."

"Not that it's any of your business, Agent Jenkins, but I must firmly disagree. I'm flying to Guatemala to perform advanced scholarly work in an area that is far more dangerous than any location in the states. I can assure you that working there is not for the faint of heart."

"And you think Booth's going to approve of this trip?" Jenkins dared to ask.

"Booth is my partner—not my father. He has no say in how I spend my time or where I travel. I have never consulted with him in planning my field work and I don't plan to begin doing so now," Brennan insisted, turning away to indicate that she wasn't planning to continue the conversation.

Inside the airport, Jenkins tried several more times to convince her to stay. "Please, Dr. Brennan, just talk to Booth before you get on the plane. Doesn't he deserve at least that much?"

"I appreciate your concern, Agent Jenkins, and the escort. Booth has other matters to attend to. I'll email him before leaving the country. He'll understand."

"Can you give me your schedule or an itinerary?" he asked. The woman's stubbornness was legendary, and he was beginning to understand why.

Temperance smiled at the man, "You're terrified of him, aren't you?"

"A little, I suppose. Booth's a good man. I don't want to let him down."

"You haven't. You've seen me safely to the airport. I'll be sure he knows how hard you tried to convince me to stay. Have a good night, Agent Jenkins," she said before turning to enter the security line.

Shaking his head, Jenkins turned to leave. As he did so, he heard her speak, "Thank you for your work in coming to my rescue, Agent Jenkins. I appreciate your bravery and your hard work. I also appreciate the support you've given to Booth. Thank you."

"You're welcome, Dr. Brennan. Have a safe trip," he replied. He watched her until she had moved so far through security that she was no longer visible. Then he turned and dialed Booth's number, knowing that he'd be very upset when he took his call.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

"Hello, Senor Verdes, this is Dr. Brennan. I realize that it is late notice, but I've decided to fly to Guatemala. I would be honored to join the staff of the Universidad de San Carlos de Guatemala on the dig. I shall be arriving within 36 hours. I trust that you have accommodations for me there?"

"Dr. Brennan, we are honored. We had given up hope of your return to our country long ago. The team will be delighted. Thank you very much," Senor Verdes replied. "But Senora, I must ask that you allow me to arrange for a bodyguard to meet you at your American point of departure. You are well aware of the dangers in the areas near our dig sites for tourists—especially wealthy and famous people such as yourself."

"I… I must leave the States at once. I am flying out of Miami International Airport early in the morning. There is not time to wait… for a bodyguard. Have one meet me at the airport in Guatemala City. Or I can arrange to fly to Flores…."

"Senora, with all due respect, I cannot allow you to enter our country unprotected. Please, I beg of you, wait just until tomorrow evening in Miami. I will arrange for a bodyguard to meet you at your hotel and accompany you on the trip."

"That will be completely unnecessary."

"I insist. I will try to have someone meet you at noon at your hotel. Perhaps you can get a late afternoon flight."

"Very well. I will talk with you tomorrow," she said quickly and hung up.

Her phone buzzed again, and she almost answered it. She knew that Booth would be furious that she wasn't taking his calls. But she didn't have the heart to actually talk to him. Not now…. She needed to lose herself in her work and try to forget how close she'd come to finding the kind of happiness others and her fictional characters always seemed to find so effortlessly. A month or so at this site would help her get her thoughts and emotions in order. Then she'd figure out how to "move on."

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Later that night, she sent Booth an e-mail explaining that she was going on a dig she'd been asked to participate in months before. She explained how attentive and persuasive Agent Jenkins had been. She thanked Booth for saving her and asked him to relay her gratitude to everyone at the bureau. She inquired about Agent Patterson's health and informed him that she was happy she'd survived. She asked him to give her time and space on this dig. She hoped that he'd understand her need for both. She purposefully didn't give him details about her trip. She'd send them to Dr. Saroyan later—after she was in place and working on the project.

She turned off her computer, willing her emotions to stay at bay just until she set foot on foreign soil. Although she didn't trust herself to allow her emotions to reign while she was on the same continent with her partner and his lover, flying back to Booth and to the reality she so desperately wanted to avoid was tempting even now. She sensed that this departure would mark a turning point more permanent than any before. And while she realized the importance of the trip, she was making it with great trepidation.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

The next morning, a weary and heavy-hearted Temperance left a message for Senor Verdes informing him that she simply had to leave the country by early afternoon. Waiting for the escape was too taxing, too exhausting. She had to leave now, and she was not going to wait.

Checking out of her hotel, she headed straight for the airport. She was still frustrated that Hodgins hadn't been able to send one of his jets to take her on the trip. She'd thought that she'd offered to repay him generously for the favor when she'd called, but he'd not been able to accommodate her request. She was frustrated, but she was so desperate to begin her trip: she'd even fly coach to get to Guatemala quickly.

She bought a ticket and checked her bags. Then she made her way down the concourse to wait for her flight. As she walked down the concourse, her phone buzzed. She smiled when she saw the message. Senor Verdes had come through for her. The bodyguard would meet her at the airport. He already had a ticket on her flight.

Temperance tried to eat, but her appetite waned when a couple on their honeymoon sat next to her at the airport café. They were so obviously in love and happy. Despite its irrationality, she was jealous. And that jealousy made her more morose than she'd felt before. Throwing her food away untouched, she made her way to the gate. Unfortunately, there hadn't been time for her to visit the airline's private club. She very much preferred the privacy those rooms offered. Today of all days, she'd have appreciated the quiet solitude those rooms offered. She wanted to withdraw to focus on her plans for her work in Guatemala. Being around so many people reminded her of her emotional connections to her friends and coworkers. She tried to compartmentalize those emotions but failed.

She sat down among the other passengers in the heavily crowded waiting area, hating the sense of guilt she suddenly felt for rushing out of town so quickly. She knew how hard they'd all worked and how busy they'd all been looking for her and trying to rescue her. To relieve her guilt a bit, she tapped out a message out to her team at the Jeffersonian, even going so far as to copy Booth on it, reassuring them that she was fine and thanking them profusely for helping with her rescue and for understanding her need to make this trip. Her guilt assuaged a bit, she put her phone away and pulled out a journal she'd been planning to read.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

An hour later, the repeated buzzing of her phone made her angry. In her frustration, she glared at the screen showing Booth's repeated calls. Then she turned the phone off and stowed it in her carry-on bag.

"You know, it's bad form to ignore calls from your friends right before you leave the country," a familiar voice said as a man sat down in the seat next to her.

She turned to him, nonplussed.

"Booth, what are you doing here?" she managed to ask.

"I'm your partner. Where you go, I go," he said with one of his best charm smiles. Her distress rendered it completely ineffective, however.

"I'm leaving for Guatemala… to go on a dig. It was foolish of you to come all the way here, Booth. I'm fine. Please go back home. I'll call you when I get home in a month or so."

"Nope," he said in a manner clearly designed to irritate her.

"You are not invited along on this trip," she began.

"I don't need an invitation, Bones. I'm your bodyguard. Senor Verdes was pleased that I could get here so quickly."

"What? How dare you! You have no right to interfere in my personal matters!"

"Like I said, I'm your partner… and apparently your bodyguard for the duration of this trip. Sure wish we had Hodgins' jet for the trip, though. The trip down here was way more comfortable than coach is gonna be."

"You are NOT my bodyguard. And I can't believe that Jack allowed you to use his plane. No wonder it wasn't available for me to use! I… I really have to insist that you go home, Booth. You're not invited on this trip. The work will not suit you. You don't speak the language. And I do not want for you to be there. I will ask Senor Verdes to find a replacement in country. I'm sure you had good intentions, Booth. But I really have to go. I'll see you when I get back."

With that she stood and grabbed her things and made her way to the gate. Speaking quickly, she introduced herself, flashed the back cover of a copy of her latest book, and requested that the flight attendant let her board early—so as to avoid being spotted by her adoring public. However, the entire time she was speaking to the woman, Booth was standing behind her shaking his head "no" and pointing to his badge.

Temperance whirled and realized what he was doing. Furious, she barked, "Go home, Booth!" and rushed past him down the concourse.

Muttering his thanks to the flight attendant, Booth turned and followed his partner, weaving in between passengers and staff in an attempt to catch up.

He finally caught her outside the airline's private club. Eager to see what one of those really looked like, he was grinning when he attempted to follow her in. Unfortunately, Bones had told the guard that she was being harassed by a rabid fan and had requested that they detain him. She slipped into the room quietly. Booth's attempts to bond with the local law enforcement guys and charm his way in fell flat. What made matters even worse was that when Booth resisted, they called airport security and had him arrested.

"I get one phone call right?" Booth asked as he waited in a holding cell.

"Hope you've got a good lawyer, man," the guard suggested. "Getting arrested at an airport isn't smart."

"I need your help. I don't know the number. I need to call Pete Creston."

"THE Peter Creston? Head of Homeland Security down here?"

"Yeah. You know him?"

"I know of him. You know him?"

"Served with him in the Rangers. Can you get him on the line for me?"

"I'll see what I can do," the guard said as he radioed his supervisor.

"Thanks," Booth replied, hoping that his friend would bail him out.

"Seeley," Creston crowed, "Good to hear from you. Not sure why you'd waste your one call on me, buddy. Can't do much since the arrest sounds legit. What do you want me to do?"

"I just need some time to talk to her," Booth insisted.

"To the woman who had you arrested?" Creston was incredulous.

"Yeah. Look, it's not as crazy as it sounds…."

"It's exactly as crazy as it sounds, but it's not like you to stalk women, Seeley. I'm gonna come down there and check the situation out. I'll see what I can do, but I can't make you any promises."

"Thanks, Pete. I appreciate it."

"Seeley Booth risking his job for a girl? Never thought I'd see the day."

"She's worth it," Booth said as his friend ended the call.

_THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE… THE HEART IN THE VISE…_

Temperance downed her second drink quickly. Seeing Booth had rattled her seriously. She'd been so sure that she wouldn't see him again until she'd had more time to heal. She didn't know why he was there and what the hell made him think she'd take him on the dig as her bodyguard.

He was the most illogical, impulsive, frustrating man she'd ever known. And while a part of her metaphorical heart was happy that he'd make such an effort to ensure that she was safe and healthy, the larger part of her was terrified that he'd done so. He was supposed to leave and accept her leaving. That was the pattern they'd established the year before. Why he was acting out of character, out of the established routine, she did not want to know.

She sat staring out the window and trying to forget the smug look on his face when they'd talked earlier. She'd been pleased with her ability to evade him quickly. But she knew he'd be really angry with her for allowing others to handle a situation he would deem "between them." If only she could leave without dealing with him again. That way he'd have time to cool off before she had to talk with him again.

"Dr. Brennan," a new security officer said as he approached her respectfully, "I'm Peter Creston, head of homeland security here in Miami. I'm sorry to trouble you, but we'll need you to come with us to file a formal complaint."

"Is that really necessary?"

"If you want us to hold the perp, it is."

"Very well, then," she said, gathering her things. She'd call and have the charges dropped the next day—once she was safely away in Guatemala. She didn't want to listen to Booth explain all the reasons why they couldn't be in a relationship together. She didn't want to hear him apologize for choosing Agent Patterson again. She just wanted to leave and give herself time to adapt, to move on.

Having taken in the woman's appearance, Pete had begun to worry something bad was going on. "Dr. Brennan, the man you complained about… he didn't… you know… do that, did he?" he asked, gesturing to the bruises on her face.

"Of course not," she said calmly. "He's a nuisance, but he hasn't done me any physical harm."

Still a bit wary, he nodded and led the way. She followed him into a conference room and stopped short when she saw Booth standing on one side of the room.

"Why is he here? Shouldn't he be locked up in a cell somewhere?" she spat.

Booth could see the tension wafting off of his partner the moment she entered the room. It ratcheted up several notches when she saw him there. She was bolting, leaving the country again. He'd have a hard time getting her to talk to him. But he could be as stubborn as she was, and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do everything he could to make sure she listened to what he'd come to say. He smirked at her and nodded, "Nice, Bones. Remind me to be this nice to you the next time you help save my life."

Scowling at him, she demanded from the officer, "Where is the paperwork? I'll just sign it and leave." She wasn't going to wait. She wasn't going to let Booth bully her into having this conversation. Not now. Maybe not ever. They'd speak later. On her terms. When she was ready.

"No, you and I are going to talk," Booth said. Then he looked at his friend and asked, "Can't you take these things off, Pete?"

"Would that be okay with you, Dr. Brennan? Do you feel that Booth's a danger to you?"

Glaring at Booth, she shook her head. Then she shot a look at Booth that warned him that she could be the more dangerous of the two.

"And you promise not to escape?" Pete asked his friend.

"On my honor as a soldier, Pete. My word as a Ranger."

"Well, I'll be right back with the equipment. You behave," Pete said pointing a finger at his friend.

"I should have realized that you'd take advantage of your law enforcement status to avoid the true consequences of stalking a private citizen through a public airport," she said as she glared at him.

"Desperate measures," he said with a shrug. "Pete was one of my commanding officers overseas. He's a good guy." Booth paused for a moment before deciding to let her know how serious he was about being there. "Thanks for agreeing to let them take these temporary cuffs off, Bones. That was downright civil of you. But don't pretend you don't know that it would take a hell of a lot more than temporary cuffs to keep me from getting to you if I needed to."

"I will call and have them release you after I'm gone, Booth," she said in a carefully controlled voice, "I just need you to allow me to leave as I had planned." That's exactly what she needed—some semblance of control. The appearance, if not the fact, that she was making plans and taking actions independent of the stubborn man across the room. She had to regain her equilibrium and depend upon him less. She had to "move on" as he'd suggested he had to do on the steps of the Hoover building a year ago.

"You're not going anywhere. Not until we talk," he said in that voice that allowed for no disagreement. His tone combined with his foreboding physical presence were menacing and left little room for doubt that he was serious about his intentions.

Her adrenaline was pumping, but she defied him anyway. "I've taken down men who were bigger and stronger than you, Booth. Don't threaten me," she hissed.

At just that moment, Pete returned with the wire cutters and removed the temporary cuffs from Booth's wrists. "Thanks, man," Booth replied gratefully as he rubbed his wrists.

He turned and took a few steps closer to his partner, his eyes boring into hers as he whispered with a cocky smirk, "I've imagined dozens of ways that you and I could get physical, Bones, but none of them—well, maybe only one of them-involved hand-to-hand combat." Moving farther away and raising his voice to a less private level, he continued, "I came all the way down here. I'm your partner. Just sit and talk with me for a little while, and then, if you still think you have to make the trip, I won't stand in your way."

"Fine. But I don't have long," she agreed, walking away and turning to face the window.

"Pete, can you give us a minute?" Booth asked his friend. Pete considered the request but didn't move. He was having way to much fun watching "lady-killer Seeley Booth" spar with the hot, feisty woman across the room.

"Actually, I'd prefer that 'Pete' stay," Bones said, surprising him. Pete laughed and Booth glared at him. Then he turned to his partner. "Fine."

Pleased with the obstacle she'd placed in his way, Temperance relaxed for a brief moment. She'd outsmart him and get out of here without doing this. There had to be a way. She turned and walked back over to the window to pretend to watch the plans moving around outside the building.

"You underestimate me, Bones," Booth said before turning to sit in a chair across the room.

"Pete, this here is Dr. Temperance Brennan, my partner. She thought that your staying would stop me from talking, but I'm game if that's what it takes. Dr. Brennan is a world-renowned forensic anthropologist, famous author, wonderful friend and loyal partner. And I fell hard for her the day I met her about six years ago."

"Booth!" Brennan hissed as she whirled to face him. She certainly didn't want to talk about those times, and she didn't want a stranger hearing about them. She'd clearly miscalculated when she had assumed that Booth wouldn't talk about "them" with someone else there.

As if daring to prove to her how unintimidated he was by the situation, her partner continued his brazen discussion, "Bones here… that's what I call her... Bones is the smartest, most beautiful, most stubborn and infuriating woman I've ever met," he said, pausing long enough for her to glare at him again, "And instead of just plain driving me crazy, that just makes me crazier about her."

"I will not stay here and have you mock me… make fun of me…," she said, moving to leave the room. As she passed his chair, he rose and caught her by the elbow, effectively stopping her progress.

"I am not making fun of you, Temperance," Booth said before turning to Pete again.

"Bones is the bravest person I know, but you're not seeing that side of her. She can't wait to get the hell out of her because she's scared."

Furious, she turned on him, "I am not afraid. I wasn't afraid of Carson, and I'm NOT afraid of you."

"You're lying, Bones. You're terrified. You don't want to have this conversation. That's why you left DC in such an all-fired hurry. You're scared. That feeling in your gut that's all quaky and tense… the feeling that you can't breathe or swallow… the sweaty palms and the racing pulse… that's fear. You feel almost like your metaphoric heart is literally in one of those creepy metal vises and that someone is squeezing it until it might explode… I know that's how you feel, and it's because you're scared."

"You don't know how I feel!" she growled.

"Yes, I do!" he demanded, "Because I'm scared, too! I've felt all those same things and more the whole time you were with Carson and ever since you left DC without saying goodbye. I felt it again today when I saw you and again when you ran. I'm scared right now, Bones. But you know what? I'm sick of being scared, Bones. We need to talk about things, and we're not waiting anymore. We're doing this now."

Trying to change tactics and appear unaffected, she continued, "We've already had a conversation. I don't see how any further discussion will make any difference."

Booth decided to call her on her crap. She asked for the truth, well he'd dish it out for her, "You're lying. Again. You see, Pete, Bones here is rabid for the truth. She hardly ever lies. She's brutally honest. And what she needs now is for me to be brutally honest with her. She lives her life based on truth and evidence. But she's in denial about a few things… and one of them is that she doesn't believe in love."

"I really don't see the point of this, Booth. Are you determined to make fun of me in front of your friend?" Temperance snapped.

"I'm not making fun of you, Bones."

"Well, you know that I do believe in the love of family... and of friends. Just because I'm not convinced that monogamous love between two heterosexual adult humans can be sustained doesn't mean that I don't believe in love."

"But you do believe in loving monogamous relationships, Bones. In fact, you're already in one."

"What? I certainly am not."

"Let me give you the facts, Bones. Even Pete here who doesn't have a romantic bone in his body will see it."

"I'm leaving in five minutes. I have a plane to catch."

"Pete, Bones is the only partner I've ever had for more than one case. She puts up with my moods and my need to be in control. She's patient enough to explain things five times to me until I understand whatever-the-hell brilliant scientific thing she's discovered. She knows about some of the family stuff and things that happened in the Rangers that I never talk about—the stuff I won't even talk to shrinks about. She knows how screwed up I am, and she works with me anyway. She's saved my life more than once. She's the best friend I've ever had—even when I wasn't the best of friends back to her. When I had a brain tumor, she stayed with me in the hospital and wrote a story and read it to me for days. She never left my side."

"Booth, you've done things like that for me. That's just… being a good friend and partner."

"Well, what about the fact that you've pushed me away over and over again in the name of protecting me from getting hurt by a relationship with you….?"

"Booth…," she said, tears forming. She turned away to hide them, realizing it was too late, but trying to salvage her dignity.

"She's put up with me running away and pretending to love someone else. She worked endlessly to catch a serial killer who was out to hurt me and those I cared about. She arranged for me to have time with my kid and my grandfather when I was banned from duty so I wouldn't go crazy not being able to help."

She turned to face him, "Booth, I'm your friend. These are examples of gestures of friendship."

"Temperance, you're so damned stubborn. Are you telling me that it was just friendship when you put up more than a million dollars of your own money for a fund to help the families of violent criminals and of their victims during this last case?"

She inhaled sharply, surprised by what he'd found out. But she jutted her chin out defiantly and responded with a bold, "Yes."

"So it was just friendship when you risked your life giving money and personal information—your personal cell number-to the families of serial killers I'd arrested?"

"Yes."

"And it was just friendship when you promised to donate the proceeds from your next two books to the fund?"

"Yes."

"And you were just being my friend when you got Gordon Gordon to help recruit therapists all over the country to donate their services to help the victims…."

She nodded and tried to look away. Part of her had hoped that Booth would never find out about the idea she'd concocted and the lengths to which she'd gone to arrange for the victims' fund. But the fact that he knew all the details was apparent when he reached out and turned her face so that she had to look into his eyes.

"And it was just friendship when you named that fund after my mom, knowing how much that would mean to me… to do something like that in her honor… after all she went through and after all the times I couldn't…," he broke off, emotion cutting off his ability to voice to her how much that meant to him. He swallowed hard and spoke again barely above a whisper, "… and then you named it for her maiden name to respect my privacy…."

"I…," she stammered before turning and walking back to the windows.

He followed her silently and stared over her shoulder and into her reflection as he spoke, "And it was just friendship when you pushed me back into Fallon's arms when we found her. Even though all I wanted… all it feels like I ever wanted… was to hold you."

She nodded because she was too emotional to speak.

"Fallon told me how you gave her the literal shirt off her back to help bind her wounds. She told me how you'd stroke her hair and ask her questions about how she felt about me and about our times together when we first met. She told me that you said that I loved her and that I needed her and that I'd be so happy to be back in a relationship with her. You told her I'd never given up on things with her, Bones. She said that was what helped her survive. You… you helped her survive, Bones. You lied to her for her sake and mine… that's way the heck beyond friendship, Bones."

She swallowed hard and didn't look at him when she answered, "I know you're happy to have her back. I just want you to be happy."

"That's the final proof, Bones. You're willing to shove me toward another woman, toward the woman you whispered lies to for my sake, toward a woman who told me to leave her bedside because she realized how much you loved me. Even Fallon sees how much you love me, Bones. And she knows how I feel about you. She told me that I needed to find you and tell you how I felt." He moved even closer, daring to place his face alongside hers and to wrap his arms around her from behind, "All those things you've done, Bones…. They all show that you love me exactly the way that I love you."

After inhaling sharply hearing his confession, Temperance stood there silently considering his words. Booth was talking to her—really talking about his feelings without worrying who could hear or if he appeared weaker for doing so. He was breaking another norm of their established relationship.

"Don't go to Guatemala, Bones. Go back home with me and be my partner. Be more than my partner."

She hadn't planned on this… this confession of love… his honesty… his disregard for someone else hearing about his feelings… and hers. Panic rose up and threatened to consumer her, "What if I need time to think about this? What if I go to Guatemala?" she asked, knowing that he'd allow her to leave and that he'd move on the way he'd done before. She just had to extract herself from the situation, and he'd realize that he'd just been caught up in some fleeting emotion. He'd move on and allow her to do so.

"Then I go with you," he said simply, his eyes a molten chocolate as he stared deeply into hers.

She panicked. She had to reason with him and do something to get away. "They" never worked out. She didn't know how much more of these near misses she could take. She pulled away and put some distance between them, "Booth, you just got reinstated. You don't have enough vacation time…."

"I'll take a leave of absence. Or I'll quit my job. I'm your partner, Bones. I'm not letting you run away from me again. We've wasted too much time."

"But you need to go back and renew your relationship with Agent Patterson."

Booth laughed. He did more than laugh. He nearly howled with laughter. His partner was not amused.

"I'm sorry, Bones. It's just…. That's the most illogical thing you've ever said. What's it going to take for you to realize how crazy I am about you? Nearly losing you to Carson almost killed me, Bones. Nobody else will ever get on my radar. You're it. You are the only woman I can see anymore. You're the one I want to be with. We keep messing things up but it doesn't mean that we're not meant to be together. I still know… about us… just like I did a year ago, and time and distance won't change that. And I think it's about time that you realized that deep down, you know it, too."

The partners just stood there staring at one another. Neither of them seemed able or willing to move.

"Oh, just go ahead and kiss him already. Somebody's got to shut Seeley up before he becomes a complete sap."

His cheeks and ears suddenly burning, Booth turned and glared at the friend he'd forgotten was there witnessing this whole drama. But even embarrassed, he couldn't keep his eyes off his partner for long.

When he turned back to face Bones, she was scrutinizing him carefully. He opened his mouth to speak, but Bones placed a finger upon his lips to stop him from speaking.

"You… you really mean all this? I thought that if I left… that you'd move on again. We've established that pattern. That's the way we function. We get close and then we break apart. We've done that over and over again."

He reached up and took her hand in his and held it lightly as he spoke to her tenderly, "But you're forgetting something else important, Bones."

"What?"

"We always come back to each other. No matter how far apart we are or how long we stay that way, we always come back together. I call that fate, and I know you don't believe in that, but we are connected. You have more than enough evidence to believe that. I want to be with you, and I'm willing now to move past all those things that used to keep that from happening. Don't you want that? Can't you imagine how great it would be if we finally let our feelings show and tried to have a relationship?"

"I… You were right. I am scared, Booth."

"Hell, I'm terrified. But since when do you and I let fear stop us? We do dangerous things every day, and it works because we deal with it together. If we screw up and make a mistake, we'll work together to fix it. We can do this, Bones."

"What is 'this,' Booth? I don't know what you want."

He stepped closer and brushed his knuckles across her beautiful cheek, "You, Bones. Only you."

Heart beating wildly, she melted into his waiting embrace. They stood there in front of the window, holding one another and realizing that they really might have a chance to be happy together.

_[A/N: Brief epilogue to follow.]_


	33. Chapter 33

_**[A/N: Here's an epilogue to send these two on their way. You have my sincere gratitude for reading here and for leaving such supportive reviews!**_

_**Have to say for the record that I meant for Booth's 'stand' in the last chapter to be one of strength and fighting for 'them.' It was a chance for him not to do what he's done on TV at times. It was a time for him to realize that he couldn't push Bones farther than she was ready. It was a chance for him to realize that her instincts would lead her to repeat the pattern of leaving and avoiding the potentially painful situation she was facing. It was a chance for him to show how well he knew her. It was an opportunity for him to display his complete faith in her. And, more importantly, it was an opportunity for her to realize that she couldn't run away from what she felt for him—even if that seemed like the safest option at the time. If I didn't convey that clearly, I hope to remedy that here.]**_

Chapter 33: The Reassurance in the Resolution

Temperance was collecting evidence while trying not to allow her partner to realize what she was doing. As they had moved through the airport, she had been constantly cataloguing Booth's his actions and their experiences—gathering data as only the scientist at her core knew how-trying to reassure herself that this was indeed happening and that they might have a chance at happiness in a relationship together.

Since that moment in the conference room in which Booth had taken her hand, he'd held it almost constantly. He'd released it long enough to shake Pete's hand and to thank him for giving them time to talk. But he'd recaptured her left hand in his almost immediately and had held it there ever since. She sensed the significance of this gesture. Ever since Booth had arrived, he'd been determined and persistent—not giving her the option to deny what was between them, what he knew she felt, what she'd realized too but been unable to admit—even to herself. Booth had leapt over obstacle after obstacle she'd placed in his way. He had done what she needed even if it required more than she should have asked of him.

Looking back now, she realized the error of her ways all too clearly. Recalling her actions over the last day was embarrassing for her. She'd behaved nonsensically—not logically at all. She was completely unaccustomed to being wrong and having to change her perspective. She had decided once she'd been rescued that it would only be logical for Booth to reunite with his former lover. After all, that was what had happened before. She realized now that her error had been imposing a constant upon a situation in which it hadn't applied. That error could have cost her any hope for the future she'd wanted—the future she had felt afraid to reach out and grasp. She'd used reason to shut down her hopes and dreams for it too often seemed that those frivolous wants only ended up raising expectations that were typically dashed by some occurrence or experience. She'd assumed that Booth would not persist in the battle; she'd underestimated both the man and his loyalty to her.

Fortunately, Booth had been logical and focused when she had not. Before they had left the conference room, she'd watched his eyes cloud over as he told her how angry he'd been with her and how he almost hadn't made the trip down to see her. He told her how he'd gotten her messages and lost his temper. He'd rushed to her apartment and then to the lab when he couldn't find her anywhere else. Unable to find her—and yell at her—he'd unleashed his temper on Cam and Angela. He'd berated Cam for approving her leave and Angela for not talking her into staying. After he'd made both of them so angry that he could see them both working hard to restrain themselves, he'd collapsed into a chair and dropped his head into his hands—eventually apologizing for blaming them for his problems.

He told her how Angela had sat down across from him and looked him in the eye. She'd asked him if he loved her. When he'd admitted that he did, she told him in no uncertain terms to "be a man" and tell her how he felt. Unable to forget his past failed overtures, he balked and made excuses. It had been easy to blame her and talk about how she had left, run away. But Cam had walked over and told him what he'd needed to hear, "You're both screwed up, Seeley. But it works—for both of you. Don't be pigheaded and let her get away. This might be your last chance with her. Don't be stupid and give up without doing everything you can."

Listening to him talk about his decision to pursue her was painful. She'd been shutting down her emotions but she realized that Booth had faced his head on in making the trip. He'd been brave enough to face her potential rejection. He'd been brave enough to fight for her—for them. She realized now that putting time and space between them wouldn't have solved anything. It occurred to her now that it never had before. She hadn't needed to separate herself from her feelings for him—time and time again she'd tried and failed to do so. Booth was right. They were connected. She saw that as clearly now as she could discern kerf marks or striations on her beloved bones. She was extremely grateful that Booth had seen through her façade and refused to let her attempts to push him away work. He'd fought for her. He'd withstood her resistance. He'd taken a stand for 'them' and shown her that he would remain committed to their partnership and their friendship and their… relationship… no matter what. She longed to tell him how much that meant to her but she was still too emotional to begin to find the right words. She took solace in his continued presence, his acceptance, his refusal to allow anything—even her—to sabotage their shot at finally being together.

Her brilliant mind racing and her metaphorical heart attempting to keep up, Temperance was uncharacteristically quiet. Within that silence, she focused on the evidence before her. The way that Booth still held her hand symbolized their connection, made it tangible, solidified it in a way that made her face its reality… its overpowering significance in both their lives. Again, he was doing what she needed even before she was aware of what she needed from him.

Ever chivalrous, Booth had managed to swing her bag and his own over his left shoulder, leaving his right hand free to hold her left one. Had she not been overcome with emotion, she'd have argued and tried to take the bag from him. As it was, she walked beside him, struck by how different it was to be holding her partner's hand as they traversed the airport.

As they had maneuvered through the concourse and down the small corridor leading to private jet departures, Booth had squeezed her hand from time to time and often run his thumb comfortingly upon the back of her hand as they'd walked. She knew this was elementary school-style courting, but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

Even as they'd boarded Hodgins' plane for the trip home, he'd reclaimed her hand in his and held onto it as they got settled. She'd tugged it away as she fastened her seatbelt, but he'd reclaimed it immediately after they both were safely secured in their seats. That simple gesture was a physical sign of his intent to remain connected to her. He said nothing, yet he continued to hold onto her hand.

Part of her wanted to resist his almost possessive ownership of her hand. She was unaccustomed to anyone treating her that way, and part of her bristled at the mere thought that Booth would be possessive of any part of her. Strangely, another part of her loved it. She found it fascinating that her hand seemed to fit perfectly within his—and she attributed the sentiment she felt to the rush of endorphins he generated when he latched onto her hand so possessively. She hated to admit the comfort she felt from that simple touch. Flickers of electric current ran up and down her arm and her spine whenever he touched her. She could name all the chemicals causing her to experience those sensations, but she found that she preferred to focus on the fact that it was Booth's touch causing them. Focusing on the stimulus instead of its outcomes was a refreshing change for her. And focusing on Booth now was easy. It was as if the entirety of her vision had been directed through a lens focused entirely on her partner. She was seeing a whole new side of him, and he was mesmerizing.

She'd noticed Booth's strong hands numerous times, but he had seldom touched her with them for more than a few moments. His hands were large and strong. As he held her hand in his own, she felt a few rough spots and near callouses in places—he worked with these hands and they showed the wear and tear his whole body did from years of hard work and some of the abuse he'd suffered.

Despite his strength, his touch was so tender and devoted. She'd found comfort in those hands and had seen him use them to rescue innocent people and to kill monstrous villains alike. She knew that he'd used them to restore old cars and to build grills and repair pipes. Like so many other parts of the man, the hands reflected more than just the physical form of the appendages—they showed his strength and his courage. They also symbolized his loyalty. They could wield impressive strength or stroke her skin lightly and with affection as they were doing now. His hands showed her that he was making a conscious choice to be gentle and tender with her. The smile he sent in her direction when she glanced at him told her he was content just holding her hand. There was so much depth to this man who now sat beside her being viewed so differently than he ever had by her before.

Temperance had wondered more than once what it would be like to feel Booth's hands roam her body in intimate ways. Now caught up in the simple yet intense touch of his hand upon her own, she found it impossible not to long for him to use those strong, capable, gentle hands to explore her body.

Realizing that her intense focus on his hands had caused him to display the blatantly cocky smile that graced his features, she tugged on her hand to free it. However, her partner had other plans. He held tightly to her hand and pulled it up to his lips, planting tender kisses on the back of her hand, causing her to stop breathing for a long moment.

Sensing her tension, Booth dropped his hand back down to his lap so that he could hold hers comfortably in his own. He smiled at her and then stared intently at her smaller hand in his own. "Your hands are like the rest of you, they're beautiful, Bones," he whispered, taking time to scrutinize her hand more closely. He covered her hand with his other one and touched it tenderly as he spoke to her, "They're so soft and warm… They're small, but I know how strong they are. You do amazing and sometimes disgusting things with these hands. They can be gentle enough to handle delicate bones and to hug Parker, but I know that you could chop me in two with them if you wanted. Your hands are like the rest of you—an amazing combination of skills and talents and strengths. But mostly it just feels incredible holding onto them."

How could she avoid smiling at such genuinely honest sentiment? She allowed herself to give in to the dreamy smile gracing his features. The wattage of his grin shot up exponentially when she did.

She tensed involuntarily. Letting go, allowing anyone to see the emotions he engendered in her wasn't comfortable or familiar. The fear she'd tamped down rose back up again. She didn't know how to do this… how to spend quiet, intimate time adoring her partner. She'd fought those urges for years. She'd thought that a situation like this would never happen. Even when he'd confessed his love for her before, Agent Patterson had been kidnapped and they'd been unable to pursue what she had so desperately wanted. What she still wanted. What part of her was afraid to realize she wanted more than anything else she'd ever wanted before.

Yet she was perplexed about how to handle this situation. This was Booth, and yet she wasn't sure how to do this… this relationship… not with Booth. She was accustomed to leaping ahead to the intercourse with partners. Part of her longed to do just that and wondered if he'd consent and possess her completely, but the larger part reminded her that this man had always taken the time to adore her in ways that no other man ever had before. She would follow his lead. They would figure out the appropriate pace together. She would put her own insecurities and fears aside and follow Booth. She trusted that he'd show her if she were making missteps.

Sensing her fear and pensiveness, Booth squeezed her hand again and then released it. He wanted to give her some metaphorical space to come to her own conclusions. She appreciated the fact that he knew her so well.

She sat, reeling from the chill that swept over her from the loss of the heat of his contact. That feeling was just another signal to remind her of the effect her partner had on her—and could continue to have on her.

She heard and then watched as her partner stretched out beside her. As if making the point that he was just her partner relaxing there beside her, he exaggerated his movements, stretching the full length of his form and sighing as the tension was released from his body. Finally finished, he sat still for a long moment before turning to her and smiling almost—but not quite-nervously at her.

"You okay, Bones?"

Despite the unfamiliarity of their newly professed connection, this awkwardness, this tension made both of them uncomfortable. She realized that Booth was trying hard to behave normally. She also realized that she needed to alleviate his concerns. Still, when she looked up and into the expressive eyes of her partner, she found that she had trouble speaking. She nodded almost shyly and then glanced away. Booth had just begun worrying again when he felt his partner slip her hand back into his again. That surprise and the related jolt of electricity it produced had him grinning again in no time.

"So I'm not scaring you away with all the sappiness?" he asked, and she watched the tips of his ears redden as he waited for her answer.

Suddenly finding her voice, she responded, "I had suspected that you might be prone to exaggerated romantic gestures and sentiments."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, chuckling at himself as he did so.

"You are thorough in your caretaking for all of those within your inner circle. I've seen how affection you are with Parker. I know how overprotective you are. I… I've seen the workings of your metaphorical heart."

She paused for a long moment, hating the fact that she was suddenly flooded with images of his being with the other women in his life. He'd always been discreet, but she had noticed his tender interactions with those women.

She hadn't even realized that her expression had grown sad. But she felt the tips of his fingers graze her chin and gasped slightly as he turned her face back toward his own.

"Talk to me, Bones. Don't sit there thinking about other women in my past. I'm not. I want to focus on the future… on sharing it with you."

She smiled and laughed lightly at him. "Too much?" he asked, causing her to laugh out loud.

"I just need time to adjust to this side of your personality," she said with a smile as he almost blushed before her.

"I've… We've got time," he said as he gazed at her, adoration brightening his features.

"Mr. Booth… Dr. Brennan… we are at a safe altitude now. You may remove your seatbelts and make yourselves more comfortable. Let the chef know if you'd like to something to eat. We have a two-hour flight. I'll buzz back in when we start preparing for landing. Enjoy your flight," the pilot spoke over the intercom.

Unbuckling his seatbelt, Booth stood up and stretched again. When he looked down, he saw his partner staring at him thoughtfully. "Like what you see, Bones?"

Blushing slightly, she smiled and stood up beside him. Instinctively, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. "This part… this awkward part… it won't last long. We're still you and me, Bones. We just need some time to adjust to what this means, that's all."

She smiled and turned in his arms to face him. "I find it interesting how much you've spoken to me today, Booth. After so many years of virtual silence on all matters about us, you've become quite talkative."

"Sorry… I guess I'm still a little bit nervous, too. And I just want to make sure you're okay."

"I'm okay," she said as she gazed up at him tenderly.

It wasn't macho for grown men to pass out, but he swore that anyone could have knocked him over easily when she looked at him like that. His heart raced as he took in the sparkle in her eyes and the genuinely happy smile. He was captivated seeing a side of her he'd never seen before. He could get addicted to seeing Bones smile up at him that way. He figured he already was.

"You're okay. I'm okay. Is this… okay?" he whispered as he leaned closer, his breath tickling her cheek.

She nodded almost imperceptibly before reaching up to brush her lips against his. Drawn to her warmth and her touch, he dove deeper into the kiss, encouraged by her touch and the fervor with which she'd begun kissing him.

The first time they'd kissed had been wonderful but tainted by tequila and its after effects. The second time they'd kissed, they'd had an audience and both of them had been afraid to allow the heat that threatened to be unleashed have its reign. The third time they'd kissed, he'd been too desperate and she'd thought their love was forbidden. And then she'd lied to him about her true feelings. The fourth time they kissed—this time, none of the times before mattered. They'd said enough—most of what was needed. They weren't drinking or avoiding their feelings or forcing a situation that wasn't right at the time. This time was perfect. It was the right time. It made all the waiting and the pain and the worry and the confusion worth it. This time each kissed the other tenderly and honestly and as if they'd never felt the touch of one another… as if they were kissing for the very first time.

As if the kissing itself wouldn't have been dizzying, doing so at high altitude affected them even more. Stumbling together when the plane hit some minor turbulence, the couple laughed and crept over to the sofa and plopped down onto the solid surface.

Each turned to the other, and they both laughed again when neither one of them managed to say what had been intended. Booth started to say something, but his attention was drawn to his partner's lush, swollen lips. He licked his own and watched as his partner's eyes flashed with something hot and dangerous. As he'd considered dozens of times before but always stopped himself, he turned and kissed her again deeply, drawing her body over and onto his lap so that he could hold her more closely. She deepened the kiss, showing him how much he'd always underestimated the power of the attraction now unleashed between them.

He wasn't sure how or when he managed to come up for air, but he gazed at her in amazement when he did so. "Wow," was all that he was able to say.

Smiling at his reaction to their first real kiss, she slipped closer to him and attempted a second, determined to eclipse the first kiss and dazzle him further.

"Wow," she managed to say as he pulled back to gaze at her in amazement once again. Now caught up in the heady realization that he and Bones were together and kissing, Booth pulled her tightly to him and started peppering her face and neck with kisses that were more chaste but just as determined. She moaned slightly in response, and he nearly lost his mind with the way his mind began imagining the reality of what he'd convinced himself would be impossible.

"We're not… you know… not this trip, Bones. Too soon," Booth mumbled between kisses.

"Then we'll have to book a vacation soon and ask Hodgins for the jet. I've always wanted to join the Sky High club," his partner whispered as she began to explore his ear and neckline with her capable, hungry lips.

"Mmm.. Mile High," Bones. "But I have a feeling that's how you and I are gonna feel whenever we're that close. We won't need a plane or anything else to fuel this fire. Just you and me, Baby. Nothing else matters."

"Should we try that experiment now, just to satisfy our curiosity?" she asked seductively. Seeing her lust-filled eyes made it even harder for Booth to deny her. But this mattered too much. It was just too important.

"I want that as much if not more than you, Bones. But let's take our time. This will be different," he said, punctuating that phrase with a tender kiss.

"By its very nature, this relationship will be different, Booth. But that sort of sentiment isn't necessary. I find that I very much look forward to achieving physical intimacy with you. I usually judge the success of my relationships upon that sort of compatibility," she stated as clinically as she'd have pointed out specific bones from a victim to him.

He smiled at how honest she could be no matter how awkward it made talking to her about sensitive subjects. "Well, we'll be plenty compatible in that department. But for now, we'll just have to provide you with a whole new set of criteria, Bones. You deserve romance and someone who adores you for more than just your gorgeous body."

"Don't you think I am the best judge of what I need… what I want? I am… a genius," she insisted.

"Patience, Bones. It won't be long. But when that happens, I want there to be no more doubt, no hesitation, no confusion or worry on your part. Let me show you how much I care about you, okay?"

"I suppose that will be satisfactory," she whispered, nestling her head in the strong, warm space above his clavicle.

"I really do love you, Bones," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her more tightly and kissing her forehead tenderly.

Her smile was sincere and full of emotion. She reached out and touched his face tenderly… her expression betraying her wonder and near disbelief that they were actually sitting their together and discussing their future.

"Thank you for following me. I… I'm sorry I ran away from you. I…."

"Doesn't matter, Bones. The past is past. I want to focus on moving forward… moving on… with you."

Tears filled her eyes and she hugged him tightly. "Me, too," she whispered before kissing his cheek.

She wasn't ready to say those words yet, but he wasn't disappointed. He'd wait until she really meant them. He knew that would be more than worth it. And, for the first time ever, he imagined that one day she really would.

Bones leaned up and kissed him lightly and then relaxed back into his embrace. He wanted to freeze the moment and just sit there with her forever. Now that she was in his arms, he didn't think he'd ever want to let go.

They sat together in companionable silence as their mutual hopes for a happy future soared even higher than the jet now transporting them safely home together.

The End.

_**[A/N: Thanks for reading! You guys are amazing!]**_


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